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ANNEX 


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WEIRD 

T  I  T  -  B  I  T  S 


IRISH 


NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 
WHITE    &   ALLEN 


CONTENTS. 


THE   LOTS    UPON    THE    RAFT,    . 

A   NIGHT   IN    A    HAUNTED    HOUSE, 

THE   BURIAL   OF   O  GRADY,     " 

THE   LIANHAN    SHEE, 

THE   MOUNTAIN    PASS, 

THE   BANSHEE, 

LEGENDS   OF   THE   BANSHEE, 

THE   FACTION    FIGHTS,      . 

THE   drunkard's    DREAM, 

A  TERRIBLE    NIGHT," 

A   REALIZED    DREAM, 


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2076088 


THE  LOTS  UPON  THE  RAFT.  * 

Some  years  ago  I  happened  to  be  wind-bound  in  the 
port  of  L — .  A  furious  westerly  gale  had  set  in  at  the 
full  of  the  moon,  and  raged  with  a  violence  which  can 
be  appreciated  only  by  those  "  who-  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships,"  and  "  behold  the  wonders  of  the  deep." 

Right  heartily  did  our  hardy  crew  enjoy  the  shelter 
of  that  quaint  old  haven  ;  grouped  around  their  cheer- 
ful, cosy  forecastle,  the  caboose  giying  forth  a  merry, 
homely,  social  blaze,  they  yarned  away  of  by-gone 
dangers  and  hair-breadth  escapes,  which  caused  the 
older  seamen  to  shake  their  heads  in  grave  attestation 
of  the  narrators'  truth,  and  the  green  boys  to  listen 
with  open-mouthed  wonder,  thinking,  and  perchance 
hoping,  that  the  day  might  come  when  they  too 
should  be  enabled  to  relate  similar  wonders  of  mari- 
time adventure. 

The  hurricane  whistled  wildly  through  the  rigging  ; 
great  sheets  of  surge,  beaten  into  foam-froth  over  the 
rough  breastwork  of  rocks  under  whose  shelter  we  lay, 
were  whirled  aloft  through  the  spars,  showing  against 
the  black  scud  that  careered  above,  like  clouds  of  snow- 
drift flying  through  the  pines  on  a  dark  mountain-side. 

From  boyhood  I  have  been  a  lover  of  nature,  in 
calm  and  in  storm,  in  smiling  peacefulness  and  dire 

*  Reprinted  by  kind  permission  of  Messrs.  Bradbury,  Evans, 
&Co. 

5 


6  Weird  Tales. 

wrath;  by  land  and  by  sea  have  I  studied  her  beauties; 
but  of  all  the  scenes  I  love  to  dwell  upon  is  that  of  the 
sea  -.vhen  lashed  into  wild  fury  by  the  roaring  tempest. 
Such  a  scene  had  I  now  before  me ;  in  the  bottom, 
or  rather,  as  a  sailor  would  call  it,  the  "bight"  of 
a  deep  bay,  lay  the  little  haven  of  L — ,  securely 
sheltered  by  a  massive  breakwater  of  granite  rock  ; 
on  the  right,  as  you  looked  seaward,  the  margin  was 
defined  by  rugged  precipices  and  outlying  cliffs, 
whilst  the  left  hand  side  was  bounded  by  a  chain  of 
lofty  mountains ;  obliquely  up  this  bay  was  now 
raging  a  south-westerly  gale,  hurling  the  giant  waves 
of  the  broad  Atlantic  into  confused  masses  of  foaming 
broken  water ;  ever  and  anon  tremendous  squalls 
would  sweep  down  the  hill-sides  with  resistless  force, 
marking  their  paths  by  dense  masses  of  smoke-like 
mist  torn  from  the  mighty  surges  that  rolled  along  in 
solemn  grandeur,  until  broken  by  crag  and  cliff  and 
solid  rock  wall,  they  roared  a  dull  great  roar  of  impotent 
rage,  as  though  they  would  shake  earth's  foundations, 
and  open  a  passage  to  the  ravening  waters.  Turning 
from  the  fierce  battle  of  the  elements  that  raged 
without,  the  peaceful  security  of  the  well-sheltered 
little  harbour,  our  own  good  little  ship  looking  so 
neat  and  trim,  as  if  hugging  herself  in  the  enjoyment 
of  such  good  quarters,  the  merry  voices  and  jocund 
laugh  that  occasionally  resounded  from  her  decks, 
formed  such  a  picture  of  war  and  peace,  that  being 
lost  in  silent  contemplation,  I  was  not  aware  of  a 
companion  until  a  light  touch  upon  the  arm,  and  the 
gruff  tones  of  our  tough  old  pilot,  Murtagh  Moriarty, 
smote  upon  my  ear. 


The  Lois  upon  the  Raft.  7 

"  Hardy  weather,  hardy  weather,  yer  honour," 
exclaimed  Murtagh,  ducking  his  head  as  he  spoke, 
to  avoid  a  sheet  of  foam  that  arched  over  the  rocky 
parapet. 

"Ay,  ay,  pilot  ;  for  the  poor  fellows  outside,  it's 
rough  and  wild  work  indeed  ! " 

"Troth,  id  just  is  what  yer  honer  says, — wicked, 
wild,  cruel  work ;  an'  shure  id  makes  one's  heart 
bleed  for  thim  poor  coasthers  that's  sint  to  say  in  sich 
wild  winthery  weather,  an'  wid  vessels  ill-found,  wid 
ropes  as  ould  and  as  rotten  as  haybands ;  short 
manned,  too,  the  way  they  may  bring  long  profits  to 
their  naygur-hearted  owners  ;  ay,  in  troth,  yer  honer, 
many  is  the  brave-hearted  stout  sayman  that  has  had 
to  give  in  whin  human  nathur  couldn't  stand  agin 
hardships  that  id  break  a  frame  uv  iron  ;  an'  eh,  Lord 
a  mercy,  sir  dear  !  isn't  id  cruel,  wringin'  to  a  sthrong 
man's  sperit,  whin  he  finds  himself  in  the  pride  uv  his 
prime,  an'  health  and  sthringth,  sowld  maybe  to  save 
a  few  fathoms  uv  rope  or  a  few  feet  uv  new  plank  ;  an' 
hurryin'  on  in  the  broad  light  uv  day  agin  the  tall 
cliffs  that  Stan'  up  like  a  tombstone  forninst  him,  wid 
his  white  shroud  bilin'  up  an'  roarin'  all  round  him  ! " 

"  Sail  ho  !  a  sail,  Misthur  Moriarty  !  A  sail, 
Murtagh  jewel !  "  exclaimed  two  or  three  fishermen 
who  had  joined  us. 

We  peered  anxiously  to  seaward,  and  in  the  intervals 
of  the  drift  and  mist,  just  under  the  lofty  cliffs,  and 
almost  within  the  broad  belt  of  snowy  breakers  that 
foamed  at  their  base,  was  a  gallant  ship  under  close- 
reefed  topsails  and  courses,  staggering  under  the 
pressure  of  the  latter,  as  if  carried  on  with  a  reckless 


8  Weird  Tales. 

desperation  akin  to  despair,  in  order  to  extricate  her 
from  the  fearful  position  into  which  over  confidence 
or  the  thick  haze  of  rain  and  surge  had  betrayed  her. 
"  God  be  marciful !  Bud  by  the  Hving  " — 
Whatever  else  the  old  pilot  would  have  said,  died 
upon  his  lips ;  a  mighty  wall  of  waters  came  rolling 
down  upon  the  hapless  bark  just  as  she  was  about  to 
clear  the  point  of  greatest  danger ;  for  a  moment  she 
wavered  on  her  course,  as  though  her  helmsman  was 
paralyzed  at  the  appalling  peril ;  it  was,  however,  for 
a  moment  only  ;  again  she  lay  over  to  the  hurricane 
squall,  until  all  her  broad  decks  were  visible  ;  there 
was  a  great  sheet  of  hissing  surge  boiling  out  from 
under  her  lee  bow,  which  showed  the  tremendous 
velocity  with  which  her  desperate  crew  were  forcing 
her  through  the  broken  water ;  gallantly,  coolly,  and 
with  stern  resolve  she  was  held  on  that  fearful  course, 
as  if  gathering  up  her  speed  and  her  strength  for  the 
last  great  struggle  to  escape  destruction.  Already 
was  the  towering  mass  upon  her,  another  moment 
and  she  would  be  rolled  broadside  on  into  that  seeth- 
ing cauldron,  a  mass  of  riven  planks  and  timbers,  the 
chaos  of  despair,  of  death  !  We  held  our  breaths  in 
torturing  anticipation  of  what  was  to  follow ;  already 
the  cry  of  the  strong  swimmers  in  their  agony  seemed 
resounding  in  our  ears  ;  no  mortal  hand  could  help, 
no  human  aid  could  reach  them.  Suddenly  her  helm 
was  put  down ;  as  she  came  up  in  the  wind  the 
thunder  of  her  shivering  canvas  sounded  like  the 
knell  of  doom  ;  she  lifted  buoyantly  to  the  giant  sea, 
rose  upon  its  advancing  crest,  as  if  with  the  last  great 
effort  of  exhausted  strength,  burst  through  the  curling 


The  Lots  upon  the  Raft.  9 

ridge  of  white  foam,  and,  falling  off  on  the  other  tack, 
disappeared  from  our  fevered  gaze  in  a  column  of 
spray-smoke  and  rain-mist. 

"  Bravely  done  !  Bravely  and  well  done ! "  shouted 
old  Moriarty,  in  intense  excitement.  "Ay — ay — by 
my  sowl,  the  child  that  sails  her  is  no  chicken  !  He 
knows  every  sthick  in  her  timper,  too,  or  he'd  never 
thry  such  a  divil's  thrick  as  that  wid  her.  If  a  rope 
yarn  failed  him,  his  sperit  id  be  on  the  road  to  glory 
now.  The  Lord  be  praised  for  his  marcy  in  sparin' 
them  !  Ids  down  on  ther  knees  they  ought  to  be  this 
blessed  minit  ?" 

"  Ther'  no  sthrangers  here,  anyhow,  Murtagh  !" 

"  Thrue  for  you,  Billy  Duncan,  alanna,  ay,  indeed, 
that  ther'  not ;  here  she  comes  now,  squared  away 
afore  the  wind  ;  but  my  ould  eyes  are  so  mildewed 
wid  the  say  dhrift,  that  I  can't  make  out  what  she  is 
at  all  !  " 

"Whisht,  boys,  whisht!  Spake  aisy,  can't  you? 
Ye'll  know  what  she  is  now.  Don't  ye  see  who's 
comin'  along  the  pier  ?  " 

All  eyes  were  turned  from  the  rapidly  approaching 
vessel,  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  speaker.  A 
tall  and  stately-looking  female  was  striding  along  the 
rugged  causeway,  heedless  alike  of  the  furious  tempest 
or  the  pitiless  peltings  of  rain  and  spray.  She  was 
clothed  in  garments  of  rusty  black,  which  barely 
sufficed  to  cover  her  poor  weak  frame,  much  less  to 
protect  her  from  the  inclemency  of  the  elements.  In 
the  hard-drawn  lines  of  her  aged  and  care  -  worn 
features,  could  be  traced  the  vestiges  of  early  and 
wondrous  beauty — the  wreck  of  one  of  earth's  fairest 


lo  Weird  Tales. 

flowers.  A  look  of  patient  suffering  strangely  con- 
trasted with  the  expression  of  her  bright  dark  eyes, 
from  which  a  baleful,  almost  ferocious,  fire  gleamed 
fitfully.  Her  hands  were  clasped  with  feverish  energy, 
as  if  in  earnest,  ceaseless  supplication ;  her  gaze 
wandered  not ;  it  was  fixed  upon  the  approaching 
ship.  She  moved  through  pointed  rocks,  and  across 
yawning  chasms,  like  a  being  of  another  world. 
Ever  and  anon  her  lips  moved,  as  if  in  prayer,  yet 
she  spoke  to  none,  nor  seemed  to  be  aware  of  the 
presence  of  a  human  being.  The  moment  she  gained 
the  lighthouse  platform  she  knelt  at  its  margin,  lonely, 
sad,  and  weird-looking,  swaying  her  body  backwards 
and  forwards,  her  hands  raised  in  prayer.  Her  voice 
now  rose  in  incoherent  murmurings,  and  anon  died 
away ;  but  the  same  intensely  vengeful  light  gleamed 
ever  from  her  eyes. 

"  Letty  Blair,  God  help  her!"  exclaimed  old 
Murtagh.  "  If  I  was  Black  Will  Gardiner,  I'd 
sooner  my  bones  were  washing  under  yon  cliffs  than 
face  such  a  welkim  as  this  afther  every  vy'ige  ! " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Murtagh  !  what  is  the  mean- 
ing of  all  this?  Surely  the  poor  creature  must  be 
mad  ;  she  will  die  from  such  exposure.  Let  us  re- 
move her  to  shelter  and  warmth." 

"  Hist,  yer  honer,  hist !  it's  poor  Letty  Blair.  She's 
goin'  to  curse  Black  Will  Gardiner,  the  skipper  of  the 
Gipsy  Bride:' 

Meanwhile,  the  vessel  which  had  caused  all  this 
excitement  had  drawn  nigh,  and  her  bowsprit  now 
appeared  as  she  rounded  the  pier  end,  in  such  close 
proximity  that  a  maa  might  have  stepped  on  to  her 


The  Lots  2ip07i  the  Raft.  1 1 

bulwarks.  Usually,  when  a  vessel  returns  to  her  port 
after  a  voyage,  there  are  those  at  hand  to  give  the 
tempest  -  tossed  mariners  a  cheery  welcome  home. 
Some  few  stragglers  had  joined  us,  but,  save  an  odd 
cry  of  recognition,  her  dripping  and  startled-looking 
crew  were  grouped  forward  in  sullen  silence  ;  no 
joyous  outburst  welcomed  the  wanderers  of  the  deep  ; 
no  triumphant  cheer  acknowledged  the  gallant  battle 
for  life  that  had  been  fought  and  won.  No  ;  a  deep 
and  ominous  gloom  appeared  to  hang  over  the  ship 
and  her  crew.  At  this  moment  the  appearance  and 
movements  of  the  captain  of  the  Gipsy  Bride  arrested 
my  attention.  He  was  a  man  in  the  prime  of  life,  of 
colossal  stature,  powerful  and  athletic  frame,  but 
withal  of  a  stern,  gloomy,  and  forbidding  aspect ;  and 
if  ever  the  face  of  a  man  gave  index  of  the  mind,  his 
might  be  read  without  envy.  His  swarthy  features 
were  convulsed  in  a  manner  fearful  to  behold ;  hatred, 
rage,  fear,  despair,  all  the  evil  passions  which  crime 
entails  upon  its  followers,  reigned  in  turn ;  the  veins 
upon  his  forehead  stood  out  like  knotted  rope  yarns  ; 
his  powerful  grasp  clutched  at  everything  within  reach, 
as  though  he  fevered  to  grapple  with  a  deadly  foe. 
The  struggle  for  mastery  over  his  feelings  were  terrible. 
The  short  quick  walk  along  the  quarter-deck  ceased 
the  moment  he  caught  sight  of  that  kneeling  woman. 
He  stood  glaring  like  some  ferocious  beast  about  to 
spring  upon  his  prey.  A  howl  of  torture — the  pent-up 
cr)'  of  racking  mental  agony — burst  from  his  lips.  It 
increased  into  a  half-shriek,  half- roar.  His  hand 
shook  like  a  man's  with  ague,  as,  pointing  to  the  form 
which  bent  over  him  from  the  rucky  platform,  like 


12  Weird  Tales. 

that  of  an  avenging  angel,  with  a  burst  of  fearful 
imprecations,  he  thundered  forth — 

"  Eternal  fires  !  will  no  one  strike  that  old  hag 
from  my  sight  ?  " 

It  was  a  solemn  sight,  accompanied  by  fearful 
sounds.  That  ship  and  her  crew  just  gliding  into  the 
safe  and  sheltered  haven,  escaped  as  by  a  marvel  of 
Providence  from  a  horrible  death,  and  instead  of 
voices  upraised  in  glad  thanksgiving  for  mercy  vouch- 
safed, to  hear  that  awful  shout  of  ribald  blasphemy 
rising  high  above  the  roaring  of  the  sea  and  the 
howling  of  the  wind  !  And  then  that  weird-looking, 
kneeling  woman,  wrapped  in  her  graveyard  garments 
of  woe,  muttering  forth  incoherent  ejaculations,  in 
which  invocations  of  Heaven's  wrath  were  strangely 
mingled  with  supplications  for  mercy  !  The  visitation 
that  destroyeth  the  body  and  the  soul  was  prayed  for 
in  the  same  breath  as  the  exemption  of  the  innocent 
from  the  doom  of  the  guilty  !  By  the  night  or  by  the 
day,  in  the  calm  or  in  the  storm,  by  the  land  or  by 
the  sea,  sleeping  or  waking,  in  health  or  in  sickness, 
that  "  the  worm  which  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  which 
is  never  quenched,"  might  prey  upon  the  spirit,  blast 
the  hope,  wither  the  strong  frame,  and  dry  up  the 
life's  blood  of  William  Gardiner — the  outcast  of  God 
and  of  man  ! 

The  close  of  that  eventful  day  saw  the  storm  un- 
abated, the  good  ship  the  Gipsy  Bride  safely  moored, 
her  captain  bestowed  wherever  his  evil  spirit  could 
best  find  a  resting-place  ;  the  mysterious  visitant  of 
the  pier,  I  trust,  where  her  broken  heart  and  fevered 
mind  were  lulled  into  forgetfulncss  of  the  terrible  past. 


The  Lots  upon  the  Raft.  1 3 

and  myself  awaiting  the  pilot  and  his  promised  yarn. 
At  length,  having  satisfied  his  craving  for  a  pipe  of 
Maryland,  he  made  his  appearance  aft. 

"  I'm  thinking  yer  honer  is  aiger  to  hear  the  story 
of  poor  Letty  Lorimer  ?  " 

"  Perhaps,  Murtagh,  your  memory,  like  an  old  hat, 
would  be  refreshed  by  damping  ! "  handing  him  as  I 
spoke  a  stiff  compound  of  Admiral  Vernon's  favourite 
mixture. 

"  Ough-ah  !"  coughed  the  old  pilot,  making  the 
cabin  to  resound  again,  "bedad,  it's  curious,  yer  honer, 
that  two  of  uz  should  be  thinking  the  same  thing  !  " 

"Now  then,  pilot!"  I  exclaimed,  "to  develop 
this  mystery  that  has  puzzled  me  all  day." 

"  Ay,  yer  honer.  It's  now  many  a  long  year  since 
ould  Clement  Lorimer  was  a  big  man,  an'  a  sthrong 
shipowner  in  this  same  port  of  L — .  He  owned  ships 
that  wint  to  a  great  many  places  beyant  the  say,  an' 
his  word  was  as  good  as  another  man's  bond.  Well, 
Clement  had  a  daughter,  the  poor  wake  craythur  yer 
honer  seen  to-day,  an'  och  !  weary  me  !  ids  myself 
that  remimbers  poor  Letty  Lorimer,  the  purtiest 
Colleen  Dhas  that  every  tossed  a  spidthers-web  from 
a  grass-brake  on  a  May  mornin',  an'  becoorse  all  the 
gay  young  chaps  about  these  parts  used  to  be  cocking 
their  caubeens  at  her,  but  Letty  id  have  none  of  'em  ; 
she  was  grand-like  in  her  idayies,  an'  was  given  to 
readin'  about  great  men  that  wint  across  the  says,  an' 
med  great  fortins.  Well,  there  were  two  apprentices 
sint  to  ould  Clement — the  sons  of  marchints  he  used 
to  have  dalins  wid  —  one  was  a  dashin'  fine  young 
Scotchman,  none  uv  yer  hard-lined,  skin-the-cat  sort 


14  Weird  Tales. 

of  chaps,  bud  a  great,  big-hearted,  jovial  chap  ;  och  ! 
shure,  they  said  he  was  descinded  from  the  great 
King  Robert  the  Bruce  ;  anyhow,  no  matther  who 
was  at  the  beginning  of  him,  he  was  a  raal  fine  hand- 
some, slashin'  sailor,  an'  no  two  ways  about  him  ; 
to'ther  fellow,  they  said,  was  a  side-wind  from  Spain, 
bud  he'd  an  English  name  at  all  events,  an'  was  a 
great' big-limbed,  dark-lookin' customer, — morose  and 
self-given  like — nobody  fancied  him,  but  bonny  Donald 
Blair  was  in  everybody's  mouth ;  an'  the  way  he'd 
dance  the  reel  of  Tullogorum,  an'  sing  the  Laird  o' 
Co'pen,  bedad  it  id  bring  the  tears  into  yer  eyes  wid 
fair  delight.  William  Gardiner  was  ould  Lorimer's 
favourite,  at  all  events  j  whether  his  people  had  more 
money  nor  Donald's,  nobody  knew  rightly,  bud  people 
said  that  Letty  was  to  be  married  to  him  whin  he  was 
out  uv  his  time.  Ther's  always  two  voices  to  a  bargain, 
and  although  Letty  wasn't  much  consulted  at  first, 
bedad  she  was  daytermined  she'd  have  her  own  way  ; 
so  the  very  day  Donald  Blair  was  out  uv  his  time,  the 
two  uv  them  sets  off  an'  gets  married  hard  an'  fast, 
an'  maybe  there  wasn't  the  devil's  own  rookaun 
about  it ;  however,  Clement,  sinsible-like,  med  the 
best  uv  the  bargain  his  daughter  got,  an'  had  them 
home,  an'  daycently  married,  an'  a  powerful  jollifica- 
tion ther'  was  ;  everybody  got  dhrunk  uv  coorse,  for 
Donald  was  such  a  favourite  that  nobody  envied  him 
but  one,  that  one  was  Will  Gardiner  ;  next  or  near  the 
weddin'  he  never  kem,  but  was  black  and  sulky  as  a 
chained  bear.  I'm  told  'twas  dhreadful  to  hear  the 
oaths  he  swore  about  the  revenge  he'd  take  on 
Donald  Blair. 


The  Lots  up07t  the  Raft.  1 5 

"Clement  Lorimer,  to  make  up  wid  him  like,  gev 
him  the  command  uv  one  uv  his  best  ships,  an'  to 
show  that  there  was  no  ill-will  betwixt  nor  between 
them,  he  sent  Donald  Blair  out  as  chief  mate ;  she 
was  as  fine  a  barque  as  ever  yer  honer  clapped  eyes 
on,  oh  !  a  raal  beauty,  called  the  Carlo  Zeno  :  that 
was  a  woeful  vy'ige  for  Donald  ;  poor,  light-hearted, 
gay  Donald  Blair,  he  never  kem  back ;  he  was  logged 
as  washed  overboord  in  a  squall  off  the  great  Piton 
Rocks,  near  the  island  of  Saint  Lucia ;  there  was 
whisperin's  uv  foul  play,  but  Will  Gardiner  challenged 
'em  all,  an'  as  the  log  was  found  all  square,  an'  the 
crew  spoke  up,  why,  there  the  thing  ended. 

"  Not  wid  poor  Letty,  though  ;  the  poor  craythur  ! 
she  never  lifted  her  head  from  that  day ;  an'  the  poor 
ould  raasther,  too,  wid  all  Donald's  wild  ways  was 
fond  uv  him,  for  who  wouldn't  ;  the  poor  lad  was  as 
honest  an'  open-hearted  as  the  light  uv  day,  only 
fond  uv  his  joke,  an'  his  divarshun,  small  blame  to 
him,  ids  a  sorry  sowl  that  goes  through  the  world 
without  rubbing  a  few  bright  spots  in  id. 

"  In  the  coorse  of  time  the  widow  Blair  became  a 
mother ;  an'  if  ever  the  dead  came  to  Ufe  again,  the 
father  did  in  that  boy,  only  he  had  the  mother's 
beauty  an'  all  her  winnin'  ways  to  the  back  of  all 
poor  Donald's  dash  an'  bravery ;  he  grew  fast,  an' 
ould  Clement  began  to  regard  him  as  the  apple  uv  his 
eye,  couldn't  bear  him  out  uv  his  sight  for  a  minit ; 
bud  the  dark  times  wor  at  hand,  things  began  to  go 
cross  wid  the  poor  ould  masther, — first  one  ship  was 
wracked,  thin  another,  until,  at  last,  the  only  one  he 
had  left  was  the  Carlo  Zeno. 


1 6  Weird  Tales. 

"Well,  the  time  kem  when  something  must  be 
done  wid  young  Donald, — he'd  no  longer  his  grand- 
father to  look  to — so  bedad  the  heritage  uv  his  poor 
drowned  father  was  bestowed  upon  him,  and  he  was 
sint  to  sarve  his  time  wid  Will  Gardiner  :  oh  !  but 
that  was  a  sorry  partin',  for  Clement  Lorimer  had 
parted  wid  his  last  ship  to  him,  an'  in  sending  his 
darlin'  grandson  wid  him  id  seemed  like  a  last  hope 
that  he'd  bring  back  the  fortune  that  was  gone. 
Many,  many  was  the  requests  he  made  uv  Will  that 
he'd  behave  to  his  poor  boy,  an'  do  by  him  what  he 
had  done  for  Will  Gardiner  to  make  him  an  honest 
sailor,  an'  a  Christian  man.  That  same  night  Black 
Will,  as  we  always  called  him,  had  a  long  talk  with 
Mrs.  Blair,  an'  he  asked  her  the  question  that  had 
been  the  aim  an'  object  of  his  life ;  he  asked  her  to 
be  his  wife,  an'  to  forget  all  she  had  ever  loved  as 
only  a  woman  can  love — once  ;  but  he  spoke  uv  him 
that  was  dead  and  gone,  of  the  man  with  whom  he'd 
broken  the  same  bread  and  drunk  the  same  cup,  as  a 
ne'er-do-well  that  desarved  to  be  forgotten — little 
knowin',  the  black-hearted  villain  !  the  woman  he 
had  to  dale  with.  Oh,  my  jewel  !  it  was  Letty  that 
up  an'  gev  him  her  mind,  and  he  left  her  that  night 
wid  the  scowl  upon  his  brow  and  the  curse  upon  his 
lips. 

"  More  nor  a  year  passed  away,  and  still  no  news 
uv  the  Carlo  Zeno.  The  poor  mother  was  well-nigh 
disthracted,  and  as  for  ould  Clement,  he  was  fairly 
beside  himself.  At  last,  one  fine  day,  who  should 
come  back,  as  if  the  finger  uv  Fate  was  on  him,  but 
Black  Will  himself,  and  nobody  else  wid  the  excep- 


The  Lots  upon  the  Rajt.  1 7 

tion  of  Art  Sullivan,  a  very  ould  man,  who  was 
carpenter  of  the  ship  ;  she  had  foundered  at  say — the 
crew  escaped  on  a  raft  ;  but,  after  days  of  awful 
sufferin',  the  only  two  that  were  picked  off  that  fatal 
raft  was  himself  and  the  carpenter. 

"The  measure  of  poor  Clement  Lorimer's  bitter- 
ness was  now  full ;  he  had  seen  ships  and  money  and 
everything  pass  away  from  him,  and  now  the  only 
being  that  bound  him  to  earth,  that  his  poor  old 
wearied  heart  clung  to,  the  fair  golden-haired  laughin' 
boy,  whose  presence  was  like  sunshine  to  him,  and 
whose  life  was  wrapt  up  in  his  own,  he  was  gone  too, 
and  all  the  world  was  black  and  dreary  to  him.  He 
longed  for  rest,  the  rest  that  knows  no  brakin'  'til  the 
last  day  comes,  and  the  poor  broken-hearted  desolate 
sowl  was  not  long  findin'  it.  We  laid  him  in  his  last 
restin'-place,  an'  all  that  remained  of  the  once  great 
shipmaster  was  a  narrow  grave  and  a  plain  little 
headstone;  and  poor  Letty  was  left  in  solitary  widow- 
hood to  mourn  the  days  that  wor  past — too  happy  to 
be  lastin'  and  too  fleetin'  to  be  true. 

"  The  little  that  was  left  her  she  spent^in  charity 
and  preparin'  herself  for  the  home  where  those  she 
loved  best  had  gone  before  her. 

"  Well,  yer  honer,  one  night  Lelty  was  tould  that 
a  dyin'  man  wanted  to  make  his  peace  wid  the  world, 
and  that  he  should  see  her. 

"'Do  you  know  me?'  says  he  to  her  whin  she 
wint  into  the  wretched  cabin,  where  he  was  lyin'  on  a 
lock  uv  sthraw. 

"'You're  Art  Sullivan!'  says  she,  'a  faithful 
servant  of  my  poor  father's.' 

i  B 


1 8  Weird  Tales. 

*'*Ay,  God  help  me,  Miss  Letty!'  says  he;  *I 
was  once  honest,  an'  had  a  clear  conscience,  bud  for 
that  black  villain  Will  Gardiner  ! '  says  he. 

"'What  about  him?  What  of  him?'  says  she. 
'  Oh  !  Art  Sullivan,  asthore,  machree  !  if  you  know 
anything  of  my  poor  lost  boy — as  you  are  now  about 
to  appear  before  your  Judge — tell  me  ! ' 

*' '  Listen,  my  poor  Colleen  ! '  says  he.  '  Listen — 
'twas  for  that  I  sint  for  you.  Whin  we  escaped  on 
the  raft  young  Donald  was  safe  and  sound,  and  so 
wor'  all  the  crew,  but  we  had  days  and  nights  of 
awful  sufiferin' — hunger  and  thirst  and  the  killin'  heat 
by  day  soon  sent  most  of  them  mad,  and  they  jumped 
into  the  say,  where  the  sharks  made  short  work  of 
them,  and  the  rest  died  of  fair  starvation.  At  last, 
none  were  left  but  Will  Gardiner,  myself,  and  young 
Donald  Blair.  Oh  !  but  he  was  a  brave  fine  boy  !  he 
kept  our  spirits  goin',  day  by  day,  and  bid  us  cheer 
up,  although  the  poor  darlin's  bones  wor'  peepin' 
thro'  his  skin.  That  terrible  man  had  a  little  store 
of  rum  and  biscuit,  for  I  kept  my  eye  on  him  night 
an'  day,  and  when  he  knew  I  had  discovered  him,  he 
gave  me  a  taste  now  and  then,  but  never  a  morsel  nor 
a  sup  would  he  give  the  brave  child  that  was  dyin' 
before  his  face.  I  took  it,  and  I  tried  to  make  the 
little  Donald  swallow  some ;  but  no,  he  had  the 
sperit  of  a  lion.  "  No  !  "  he  used  to  whisper,  and  his 
little  eyes  would  flash, — *'  What  the  black  rascal  would 
not  give  to  the  poor  men  that's  gone  shall  never  pass 
my  lips  !  "  It  was  a  just  rebuke  to  myself,  a  big  man, 
to  hear  that  from  the  lips  of  a  child  ;  but  I  was  wake 
and  feeble,   and  the  great  black  thief  was   sthrong 


The  Lots  up07i  the  Raft,  1 9 

thro'  his  own  cowardly  selfishness — so,  what  could  I 
do  ?  When  a  man  is  driven  to  death  by  inches,  he 
craves  for  life  more  than  ever — pride,  manliness, 
everything  is  wake  in  him  ;  but  that  boy  was  a  hero, 
if  ever  there  was  one  born.  At  last  the  day  came  that 
all  was  gone ;  another  and  another  followed,  and 
Black  Will  Gardiner  stooped  over  me  and  whispered 
a  horrid  timptation,  for,  says  he,  "if  we  can  only 
prolong  life  a  couple  of  days  more,  we'll  be  sure  to 
fall  in  wid  some  of  the  homeward-bounders  !  "  My 
blood  curdled  at  his  word ;  but  as  the  day  wore  on, 
and  no  sign  uv  a  sail,  he  spoke  to  me  again ;  but  I 
swore  at  him,  and  he  swore  at  and  cursed  me,  and 
called  me  a  drivellin'  old  fool  to  cant  about  mercy  to 
a  worthless  brat.  I  wondther  now  he  did  not  throw 
me  overboard,  but  the  coward  was  afraid  of  his  con- 
science— he  feared  being  alone.  At  last,  he  spoke 
out  bold,  and  said  the  time  was  come  we  should  draw 
lots  for  life — one  must  die  to  keep  the  others  alive. 
The  lots  were  drawn,  and,  God  forgive  him  a'nd  me  ! 
the  lots  were  drawn  falsely ,  and  poor  little  Donald — 
O  God,  shield  that  sight  from  my  memory  ! — there 
was  that  arch-demon  struggling  wid  that  poor  small 
child.  I  screamed  ;  I  tried  to  rise  and  help  and  save 
him  ;  but  no,  I  was  feebler  than  he  was,  and  at  last 
the  blow  was  struck  ;  ay,  God  forgive  him,  that  man- 
devil  I  he  murdered  poor  little  Donald — he  drank  of 
his  blood  and  he  eat  of  his  flesh,  and  he  forced  it 
upon  me,  too,  and  bound  me  by  fearful  oaths  never 
to  reveal  what  I  do  now,  but  I  could  not  die  aisy. 
Oh,  mercy  !  mercy,  Miss  Letty  !  I  am  goin' — I 
am' —     The  wild  cry  alone  answered,   the  spirit  of 


2  0  Weird  Tales. 

the  old  man  had  fled,  and  with  it  the  senses  of  poor 
Letty  Blair." 

"And  is  it  possible,  Murtagh?"  I  exclaimed, 
"  that  nothing  has  ever  been  done  about  this  ?" 

"  God  bless  yer  honer  ! "  said  the  old  man,  "  what 
could  we  do  ?  Letty  told  me  the  story  herself  in  a 
few  odd  clear  moments  she  had  after  the  first  shock 
passed  away,  bud  then  she  got  worse  than  ever.  Our 
only  witness  was  dead,  and  who  would  take  a  man's 
life  on  the  word  of  a  poor  crazed  woman?  Bud  his 
day  will  come,  yer  honer,  sooner  or  later  !  The 
finger  is  on  him,  sure  an'  fixed  !  He  tried  sailin'  from 
other  ports,  bud  he  always  comes  back  to  this.  Bud 
tell  me,  yer  honer,"  said  the  old  man  with  intense 
eagerness,  *'  do  you  believe  in  the  appearance  of 
sperits  from  the  other  world  ?  " 

**  Why  do  you  ask  the  question  ?" 

"  Because  poor  Letty  often  wandthers  by  the  say- 
side,  and  says  that  she  is  talking  to  little  Donald  ; 
and  thin  she  kneels  down  beside  old  Clement's  grave, 
and  whispers  to  him  to  be  of  good  cheer,  that  little 
Donald  is  comin'  to  him,  and  that  she  is  comin'  too, 
but  that  she  must  wait  for  Will  Gardiner ;  and,  sure 
enough,  when  we  see  her  doin'  this,  we  know  he  is 
not  far  off;  and  let  it  be  by  day  or  by  night  that  he 
comes  back,  there  she  kneels  upon  that  platform  of 
rock — the  first  that  he  sees  whin  he  comes,  and  the 
last  whin  he  goes  away.  God  forgive  her  poor 
wanderin'  broken  sperit,  it's  not  Christian-like,  but 
shure  she  knows  no  better — she  asks  for  her  poor  lost 
son — once  the  pride  of  the  heart  that  shall  never 
bloom  again,  the  light  of  the  eyes  that  shall  never 


The  Lots  u/'0?i  the  Raft.  2 1 

sparkle  more  but  in  madness.  Terrible  will  be  the 
fate  of  the  man  that  wrongs  the  widowed  and  the 
fatherless  ! " 

The  old  pilot  ceased,  and  I  shall  do  the  same,  good 
reader.  I  tell  you  the  tale  as  it  was  told  to  me;  and, 
for  aught  I  know,  the  poor  maniac  mother  may  still 
frequent  the  little  pier  of  L — ,  and  Black  Will 
Gardiner  may  still  be  prosperous  ;  but,  as  sure  as  the 
old  pilot  said  it,  his  day  will  come. 

I  need  hardly  say  that  the  names  I  have  introduced 
are  not  the  real  ones. 


A  NIGHT  IN  A  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

BEING   A    PASSAGE   IN    THE    LIFE   OF    MR.    MIDAS 
OLDWYCHE. 

The  festival  we  lately  celebrated  (I  mean  AU-fools'- 
day)  always  brings  to  my  mind  a  most  singular 
adventure  which  happened  to  me  in  1837,  while 
staying  for  the  Easter  holidays  at  Bleaklawns,  my 
old  schoolfellow  Harry  Fenwick's  place  in  the  north 
of  Ireland.     The  way  it  came  about  was -this. 

It  was  a  rude  evening  in  the  end  of  March  (Easter, 
it  will  be  recollected,  fell  early  that  year) ;  half  a 
score  of  neighbours,  including  the  clergyman  of  the 
parish  and  his  wife,  had  dined  at  Bleaklawns,  and  we 
were  sitting  in  a  close-drawn  circle  about  the  great, 
old-fashioned  parlour  chimney,  and  listening  to  the 
wind  as  it  roared  in  the  leafless  trees,  and  wailed  and 
sobbed  at  the  windows  of  the  house,  almost  like  a 
human  being. 

To  such  an  accompaniment  it  is  not  wonderful  that 
the  conversation  ran  on  shipwrecks  and  perils  of  the 
deep,  and  that  from  this  subject  it  passed,  by  an  easy 
transition,  to  that  of  murders.  Hence,  at  the  instance 
of  a  fair  member  of  our  conclave,  whose  tongue  bore 
the  slightest  touch  of  the  music  of  Munster,  and  who 
voted  murders  commonplace,  it  was  on  the  point  of 
leaping  the  grave,  and  going  headlong  into  the  chapter 
of  ghost  stories,  when  two  of  the  company  entered  a 
protest. 

22 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  23 

I  was  one.  I  objected  to  ghost  stories,  on  the 
ground  of  their  manifest  antagonism  to  the  spirit  of 
an  enlightened  nineteenth  century.  The  other  pro- 
testing party  went  on  opposite  grounds.  This  was  a 
young  lady  who  had  come  from  a  greater  distance 
than  the  other  guests,  and  was  to  sleep  at  Bleaklawns, 
and  who  declared  that  if  she  were  to  hear  a  ghost 
story  in  an  old  house  like  that,  where  it  was  im- 
possible not  to  believe  in  such  things,  she  would 
not  be  able  to  close  an  eye  for  terror  the  whole 
night. 

Our  hostess,  upon  this,  observed,  for  the  encour- 
agement of  her  young  guests,  that  at  Bleaklawns 
there  was  happily  no  occasion  for  fears  of  the  kind  ; 
since,  ancient  as  the  house  certainly  was,  it  had  never 
had  the  reputation  of  being  haunted,  nor  had  either 
its  present,  nor,  as  far  as  she  knew,  any  former 
occupants,  ever  experienced  any  disturbances  in  it 
which  they  were  tempted  to  refer  to  supernatural 
causes. 

"  Well,  do  you  know,"  said  another  of  the  party  (a 
rather  forward  young  fellow,  who  was  but  lately  come 
to  the  neighbourhood),  "  I  think  that  almost  a  pity. 
Such  a  house  as  this  oicght  to  be  haunted.  We  must 
try  and  conjure  a  ghost  into  it,  Harry,  out  of  the  old 
Fenwick  vault  under  the  church.  Perhaps  Mr. 
Hammond  would  lend  us  a  helping  hand.  What 
would  you  think,  sir,  of  reading  the  burial-service 
backwards  ?  " 

The  clergyman  looked  grave,  and  said  Mr.  Fen- 
wick should  be  very  thankful  that  his  house  was  free 
from  all  intrusions  of  the  world   beyond  the  tomb  ; 


24  Weird  Tales. 

and  that  the  subject  was  by  no  means  one  to  be 
treated  in  a  light  and  jesting  spirit.  To  this  our  host 
agreed ;  and  added,  that  Mr.  Emerson  (that  was  the 
forward  man's  name)  himself  would  adopt  a  very 
different  tone  with  respect  to  such  matters,  if  he  were 
to  spend  a  short  time  in  some  houses  to  which  he 
(Harry  Fenwick)  could  give  him  an  introduction. 

"  Harry,"  said  I,  "  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  I  under- 
stand you.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  there  are  houses 
in  England,  or,  indeed,  anywhere  else,  in  which  such 
things  as  Mr.  Emerson — jestingly,  I  am  sure  — 
just  now  spoke  of,  are  really  to  be  met  with  ?  " 

"  Fifty, "  answered  Fenwick,  "to  my  own  know- 
ledge." 

"  Haunted  houses  !  "  said  I. 

*'  Houses,"  replied  he,  "  which  the  people  who 
live  in  them  believe  to  be  haunted  ;  houses  in  which 
things  are  heard  and  seen,  which  there  is  no  ex- 
plaining, but  on  the  supposition  that  they  are 
haunted." 

"But  the  nineteenth  century  " —  began  I. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  interrupted  Fenwick,  *'  if  you 
can  get  the  other  world  to  believe  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  your  business  is  done  ;  but  the  misfortune  is, 
you  can't ;  and  so,  in  spite  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
the  houses  I  tell  you  of  are  haunted." 

"  But  what  kind  of  houses? — houses  belonging  to 
what  class  of  people?"  demanded  Mr.  Emerson,  "for 
a  great  deal  depends  upon  that." 

"Parsonage-houses,"  answered  Harry,  "some  of 
them  ;  and  some,  houses  like  this  ;  and  some,  houses 
belonging  to  respectable  people  in  the  middle  class, 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  25 

people  quite  as  well  able  to  form  a  judgment  upon  the 
subject  as  any  one  here." 

"  I  should  be  glad,"  said  I,  "  to  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  passing  some  time  in  one  of  these  houses.  I 
shrewdly  suspect  I  should  find  a  clue  to  the  mystery  : 
an  unprejudiced  person,  whose  mind  is  previously 
made  up  on  the  subject  of  investigation,  is  not  so 
easily  put  on  a  false  scent." 

**  Then  you  would  like  to  spend  a  night  in  a 
haunted  house  ?  "  cried  my  old  schoolfellow. 

*'  In  a  house  having  the  reputation  of  being 
haunted,"  answered  I,  "  by  all  means." 

"Then,  by  all  means,  you  shall,"  said  he  ;  "there 
is  a  house  not  five  miles  off"  that  will  just  suit  you.  I 
have  no  doubt  that  I  can  get  you  leave  to  pass  a 
night  in  it ;  and  if  you  come  out  of  it  in  the 
morning,  and  talk  to  us  of  the  nineteenth  centur}%  I 
give  you  up." 

"Mr.  Fenwick,"  said  the  clerg}'man,  "I  must 
express  my  hope  that  you  will  reflect  very  seriously 
on  what  you  are  about  to  do,  before  you  determine 
on  sending  your  friend  to  that  awful  house.  And 
you,  my  dear  sir,"  added  he,  turning  to  me,  "  would 
also  do  well  not  to  play  with  things,  the  dark  and 
terrible  nature  of  which  you  are  far  from  being 
aware  of." 

I  was  astonished.  "  What  !  reverend  sir,"  I 
exclaimed,  "  am  I  to  understand  that  you,  a  clergy- 
man, and,  as  I  can  afford  my  humble  testimony  from 
having  listened  to  your  most  excellent,  most  edifying, 
and  most  logical  discourse  on  Sunday  last,  a  clerg\- 
man  of  no  ordinary  amount  of  talent,  of  erudition, 


2  6  Weird  Tales. 

and  of  sound  good  sense — am  I,  I  would  ask,  to 
understand  that  you  attach  credit  to  the  exploded 
tales  handed  down  to  us  from  an  age  groping  in  the 
darkness  of  an  unreasonable  superstition? — that  you, 
in  fact,  believe  in  what  are  called  ghosts  ?  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  was  the  clergyman's  answer, 
"  that  I  have  had  proof — proof  most  unwelcome — 
that  the  tales  of  which  you  speak  are  not  so  idle 
as  the  present  age  is  too  generally  disposed  to 
believe." 

"  That  you  have  seen  ghosts  ! " 

''No,  not  seen;  but  I  have  certainly  had  indica- 
tions of  the  proximity  of  a  being  no  longer  of  this 
earth.  I  have  heard  sounds  which  could  not  other- 
wise be  accounted  for ;  and  Mrs.  Hammond,  and 
other  members  of  our  household,  have  not  only 
heard,  but  have  actually  seen  the  being  in  ques- 
tion." 

"  Bless  my  soul  ! "  said  I ;  "  this  is  a  most  sur- 
prising circumstance.  And  a  gentleman  so  collected 
in  the  pulpit.  May  I,  reverend  sir,  pray  you  to  put 
me  in  possession  of  the  circumstances  of  this  very 
extraordinary  case  of  what  you  will  pardon  me  for 
calling  mental  hallucination.  It  will  be  of  advantage 
to  all  the  company  to  hear  them  explained." 

"  I  must  begin,  then,"  commenced  the  clergyman, 
"  by  mentioning  that,  before  my  being  appointed  to 
the  living  which  I  now  hold,  I  was  for  a  short  time 
curate  at  Wester  Hilton,  a  market-town  between  four 
and  five  miles  from  this  place.  When  I  first  went  to 
that  curacy,  which  was  about  fifteen  years  ago,  strange 
reports  were  current  about  a  house  in  the  outskirts  of 


A  Ntg/it  in  a  Haunted  House.  2  7 

ihe  to^vIl,  which  was  said  to  be  haunted ;  and  although 
I  laughed  at  these  things  when  they  first  came  to  my 
ears,  yet,  finding  that  the  whole  town  believed  them, 
that  sober,  business-like  people — the  last  I  could 
suppose  to  be  given  to  anything  like  romancing  or 
flights  of  fancy — spoke  of  them  as  undoubted  facts, 
and  that  the  owner  of  the  house  (a  gentleman  of  the 
name  of  Greenhorn)  could  neither  live  in  it  himself, 
nor  get  any  one  to  take  it  off  his  hands — so  that  it 
had  now  for  some  years  past  stood  empty — I  felt 
myself  compelled  to  believe  that  there  was  something 
very  extraordinary  in  the  matter,  although  I  was  still 
very  far  from  going  the  length  of  supposing  that  there 
was  anything  preternatural. 

*'  To  come  to  particulars — it  was  said  that  all  kinds 
of  inexplicable  noises  were  continually  heard  in  the 
house,  chiefly  at  night,  but  sometimes  even  in  the 
daytime  ;  that  the  most  frequent  sound  was  that  of  a 
person  walking  through  the  rooms,  or  up  and  down 
the  stairs ;  and,  what  was  most  curious,  that  the 
steps  were  like  those  of  a  club-footed  person — that,  in 
fact,  it  was  not  so  much  a  walking  as  an  uncouth 
kind  of  stumping  that  was  heard,  and  which  could 
not  be  listened  to  without  feelings  of  the  most 
strangely  disagreeable  kind.  It  was  said  that  the 
doors  would  often  open  and  shut  of  themselves,  as  the 
footsteps  went  into  or  out  of  the  rooms,  and  that, 
still  oftener,  the  sound  of  the  opening  or  shutting  of 
a  door  would  be  heard,  while  to  the  eye  the  door 
remained  unmoved.  Frequently  sighs  were  heard  ; 
sometimes,  though  not  often,  a  slight  laugh,  and 
sometimes  a  low  whispering  that  would  continue  for 


2  8  Weird  Tales. 

hours  together,  as  if  the  being  that  made  all  these 
noises  were  talking  to  itself  as  it  stumped  along.  It 
was  not  often  that  anything  had  been  actually  seen, 
though  this  had  occurred  too,  the  form  of  a  woman 
having  appeared  to  more  than  one  person,  at  different 
times,  when  the  club  -  feet  were  distinctly  to  be 
remarked.  But  it  was  observed  that  when  the  form 
was  seen,  the  steps  were  inaudible,  the  spirit  never 
manifesting  itself  to  more  than  one  sense  at  the  same 
time.  However,  if  two  persons  were  together,  it 
would  sometimes  be  heard  but  not  seen  by  the  one, 
while  it  would  be  seen  but  not  heard  by  the  other. 

"  A  circumstance  that  most  painfully  spoke  for  the 
authenticity  of  these  stories  was  this  :  the  apparition 
had  been  seen  by  the  maiden  sister  of  Mr,  Green- 
born,  and  the  shock  had  been  so  great  as  to  derange 
her  mind.  This  lady  had  the  misfortune  to  have 
distorted  feet,  and  the  spectre  appeared  to  her  a 
perfect  duplicate  of  herself :  her  insanity  took  the 
horrible  form  of  fancying  herself  the  spectre,  and  she 
was  living  in  retirement  and  under  restraint,  in 
another  house  of  her  brother's,  at  the  opposite  side 
of  the  town. 

"  I  was  unmarried  at  this  time,  but  an  engagement 
already  subsisted  between  me  and  the  lady  who  is 
now  my  wife  ;  and  our  union  was  delayed  only  till  I 
should  have  got  properly  settled  in  my  curacy,  and 
be  in  possession  of  a  suitable  dwelling  to  bring  my 
bride  to.  On  first  arriving  at  Wester  Hilton,  I  had 
taken  a  small  lodging  sufficient  for  a  single  man,  and 
then  proceeded  to  make  inquiries  about  a  house, 
intending  to  see  everything  that  was  to  be  disposed 


A  Alght  in  a  Ha  unfed  House.  29 

of  in  the  Utile  town,  and  to  choose  the  most  agree- 
able. However,  a  month  passed  over,  and  I  had 
met  with  nothing  that  would  answer  ;  another  month, 
and  I  was  no  nearer  to  the  object  of  my  quest ;  a 
third  month  had  begun,  still  no  prospect  of  settle- 
ment, and  all  the  impatience  of  an  engaged  man 
chafing  in  my  breast !  All  at  once  I  thought  of  Mr. 
Greenhorn's  house.  It  was  a  good  house,  and  agree- 
ably situated,  had  a  nice  garden,  was  out  of  the  noise 
of  the  town — in  fact  it  was  the  very  place  a  new- 
married  lady  would  like  to  come  home  to.  "Why  not 
take  it  at  once  ?  To  be  sure,  there  was  all  that  talk 
about  its  being  haunted,  but  how  absurd  it  would  be 
to  suffer  myself  to  be  influenced  by  such  nonsense  ! 
What  rational  being,  in  these  days,  believed  in  a 
haunted  house?  No,  I  would  show  the  Wester 
Hiltonians  that  they  had  an  enlightened  man  among 
them  ;  I  would  make  them  ashamed  of  their  super- 
stition ;  I  would  put  down  the  foolish  tale  which  had 
so  long  frighted  their  town  from  its  propriety :  in 
short,  my  dear  sir,  I  was  extremely  impatient  to 
marry,  and  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Greenborn,  proposing  to 
become  his  tenant  for  the  haunted  house. 

*'  Mr.  Greenborn  was  glad  to  get  a  tenant,  and  let 
me  have  the  house  on  reasonable  terms.  He  wrote 
to  his  man  of  business  at  Wester  Hilton,  to  put  me 
in  possession,  and,  next  day,  the  town  talked  of 
nothing  but  the  curate's  impiety,  and  how  shocking 
it  was  to  have  to  listen  to  the  sermons  of  a  man  who 
did  not  believe  in  the  other  world.  It  was  not  long 
before  I  had  proofs  that  my  acceptableness  among 
the  Hiltonians  had   received   a   serious   shock  ;    my 


30  Weird  Tales. 

pastoral  visits  seemed  scarcely  welcome — fewer  hats 
were  lifted  as  I  passed  through  the  streets — and  some 
of  the  more  zealous  parishioners  walked  out  of  church 
when  I  ascended  the  pulpit.  I  believe  the  people 
would  have  broken  my  windows  if  they  had  not  been 
afraid  that  it  might  be  taken  amiss  by  the  gliost. 
However,  I  comforted  myself  by  thinking  all  this 
M'ould  pass  off,  and  pushed  forward  the  preparations 
for  bringing  home  my  bride.  Meantime,  I  retained 
my  lodging,  feeling  a  sort  of  repugnance  which  I  did 
not  care  too  curiously  to  analyze,  to  sleep  in  my  new 
house  alone.  At  length  all  was  ready,  and,  leaving 
the  house  in  charge  of  a  rough,  fearless  fellow,  whom 
Mr.  Greenhorn  had  already  had  in  it  as  a  caretaker, 
I  went  my  ways,  married,  and  brought  home  that 
lady  " — with  a  smile  and  a  nod  towards  Mrs.  Ham- 
mond— "  as  my  wife." 

* '  I  must  confess  that  I  did  not  act  quite  fairly 
towards  her — I  told  her  nothing  about  the  ghost. 
The  motive  I  assigned  to  myself  for  this  concealment 
was  fear  of  making  her  uneasy  ;  but  I  am  afraid,  at 
bottom,  there  lurked  another  fear— that  of  its  leading 
to  a  delay  of  our  marriage.  Well,  as  I  said,  we  came 
home ;  my  wife's  mother  accompanied  us,  and  we 
brought  with  us  a  man  and  a  maid-servant,  whom  I 
had  engaged  in  another  place,  besides  a  maid  of  my 
wife's  mother's,  a  Frenchwoman,  who  neither  spoke 
nor  understood  a  word  of  English. 

**  The  morning  after  our  arrival,  my  mother-in-law 
said,  at  breakfast,  that  she  had  been  disturbed,  she 
did  not  know  how,  during  the  night.  She  had  fallen 
asleep  soon  after  lying  down,  and  slept,  she  thought, 


A  Night  in  a  Hamited  House.  3 1 

some  hours,  very  soundly,  when,  on  a  sudden,  she 
had  awoke  all  at  once,  and  though  she  could  not  say 
she  had  heard  anything,  she  had  had,  in  the  most 
distinct  manner  possible,  the  feeling  of  having  been 
called  and  awakened,  as  if  by  some  person  come  for 
the  purpose  to  her  bedside.  She  always  slept  with  a 
light  in  her  room,  and  on  awaking  in  this  singular 
way,  she  had  sat  up  in  the  bed,  and  looked  with 
great  anxiety  about  her  ;  all  was  still,  however,  in  the 
chamber,  but  an  oppressive  sense  of  fear,  which  she 
could  not  account  for,  continued  to  disquiet  her  for 
some  hours,  and  she  had  not  fallen  asleep  again  till 
towards  daybreak. 

"At  hearing  this,  I  confess  I  was  not  without  some 
stirrings  of  conscience  ;  however,  I  put  them  down, 
and  told  my  mother-in-law  she  had,  no  doubt,  had 
an  attack  of  nightmare,  occasioned,  probably,  by  the 
fatigue  of  the  journey,  and  that  I  hoped  she  would  rest 
better  the  next  night.  It  happened  that  that  day  was 
very  wet  and  stormy,  and  nobody  left  the  house.  In 
the  evening  I  heard  our  man-servant  asking  the  maid 
what  was  the  matter  with  '  Mamzell,'  that  she  had 
been  walkhig  about  all  day  on  her  heels.  The  maid 
replied  that  she  knew  nothing  about  it,  but  supposed 
it  was  some  of  her  Popery.  Now,  I  knew  very  well 
that  '  Mamzell '  had  not  been  walking  about  on  her 
heels,  having  spent  the  day  in  reading  some  French 
book — I  remember  it  was  Floriaiis  Tales — to  her 
mistress.  I  confess  the  man's  expression  brought  the 
club-feet  to  my  mind  in  an  unpleasant  manner ;  how- 
ever, I  had  made  an  irrevocable  determination  not  to 
believe  in  the  ghost,  and  to  hold  tlie  rats  responsible 


32  Weird  Tales. 

for  all  unaccountable  noises  I  might  hear,  or  hear  of, 
in  the  house.  I  therefore  continued  to  keep  my  own 
counsel,  and  was  glad  to  observe,  at  bed-time,  that 
my  mother-in-law's  thoughts  did  not  seem  at  all 
to  be  running  on  her  disturbance  of  the  preceding 
night. 

"  The  next  morning  my  wife  awoke  in  a  state  of 
singular  agitation  of  spirits,  for  which  she  could 
assign  no  cause.  She  felt,  she  said,  as  if  something 
had  been  related  to  her,  which  was  at  the  same  time 
very  melancholy  and  very  absurd,  and  which  had 
excited  in  her  mind  emotions  of  pity  and  horror,  so 
startlingly  mixed  up  with  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous, 
that  the  most  painful  conflict  of  feelings  was  the 
result.  I  asked  her  if  she  had  had  any  dream,  the 
recollection  of  which  affected  her  in  this  disagreeable 
way ;  but  she  answered  that,  although  she  had  some 
vague  consciousness  of  having  dreamed  during  the 
night,  no  trace  of  what  the  dream  had  been  about 
remained  in  her  memory — only  the  feeling  she  had 
described  rested  on  her  like  a  load  which  she  could 
not  shake  off,  and  filled  her  with  an  uneasiness  unhke 
anything  she  had  ever  before  experienced.  This 
disturbed  me,  I  will  not  deny,  seriously.  If  the 
ghost  (supposing  it  to  exist)  could  extend  its  influence 
into  the  region  of  sleep — could  approach  the  soul  in 
her  dreams— could  inspire  dark  terrors,  of  which  the 
mind  could  give  no  account  to  itself — could  act 
directly  upon  the  feelings,  and  depress  and  agitate 
them  at  its  pleasure,  without  affording  any  clue  to  its 
mode  of  operation,  any  notice  of  the  moment  of  its 
assault — what  could  exceed   the  horror  of  our  situa- 


A  Night  ill  a  Haunted  House.  33 

lion? — what  was  to  hinder  madness,  as  in  poor  Miss 
Greenhorn's  case,  from  being  the  end  of  it  ?  But 
then,  I  thought  again,  all  this  was  supposition.  Who 
could  say  that  any  preternatural  influence  had  had  a 
share  in  producing  my  wife's  state  of  feeling  ?  Sup- 
posing she  had  had  a  frightful  dream,  which  had 
faded  from  her  memory,  but  left  its  effect  upon  her 
nerves,  what  reason  had  I  to  conclude  that  she  would 
not  have  had  the  same  dream  anywhere  else  as  here  ? 
The  probability  was  that  she  was  not  well — that  she 
was  nervous,  perhaps  feverish ;  and  I  resolved  that  I 
would  call  on  the  doctor  in  the  course  of  the  morning, 
and  ask  him  to  see  her. 

"Well,  at  breakfast  we  met  my  mother-in-law, 
who,  as  I  saw  at  a  glance,  had  had  another  disturbed 
night.  She  looked  worn  and  unrefreshed,  and  told 
us  she  had  been  awakened  just  as  the  first  night, 
suddenly,  out  of  a  profound  sleep  ;  had  felt  the  same 
indefinable  dread,  which  lasted  some  hours,  and  then 
passed  off  all  at  once  ;  and  had  again  lain  awake  until 
towards  the  approach  of  morning. 

"'Nightmare,  my  dear  madam,  again,'  said  I; 
*  the  effect  of  your  having  been  confined  to  the  house 
all  day  yesterday.' 

"  'But  I'm  not  subject  to  nightmare,'  pleaded  the 
good  lady  ;  '  I  never  had  nightmare  in  my  life.' 

"  'No doubt  the  strange  bed,'  said  I,  '  had  sometliing 
to  do  with  it.  Emma  herself  did  not  sleep  well  either, 
and  I  think,  my  dear  madam,  the  doctor  must  have  a 
little  conversation  with  both  you  and  her  by  and  by.' 

"  Indeed,  my  wife's  looks  told  as  plainly  as  her 
mother's,  though  in  a  different  way,  of  the  effects  of 
i  C 


34  Weird  Tales. 

a  disturbed  rest.  She  was  pensive,  pre-occupied, 
had  a  peculiar  expression  of  perplexity  in  her  coun- 
tenance, like  that  of  one  to  whom  some  illusion  is 
presenting  itself  with  all  the  vividness  of  a  reality, 
and  who,  half  conscious  of  the  cheat,  is  struggling 
either  to  be  quite  illuded  or  quite  undeceived.  To 
her  mother  she  gave  the  same  account  of  her  feelings 
as  to  me  :  an  impression,  she  said,  of  having  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  something  extremely  sad,  and  at 
the  same  time  extremely  ludicrous,  had  got  possession 
of  her  in  such  a  way,  that,  although  she  knew  how 
groundless  it  was,  she  could  not  get  rid  of  it.  ^Vhence 
this  impression  came — from  a  dream,  or  from  what 
other  source — she  knew  not ;  but  there  it  was,  and, 
spite  of  all  she  did  to  reason  it  away,  there  it  re- 
mained, weighing  her  down  with  a  sense  of  inquietude 
which  she  in  vain  struggled  to  cast  off,  and  so  draw- 
ing her  thoughts  in  its  own  direction,  that  it  was  not 
without  an  effort  she  turned  them  to  other  subjects. 

"She  begged,  however,  and  her  mother  joined  in 
the  request,  that  I  would  not  think  of  sending  for  the 
doctor  that  day ;  the  weather  was  fine,  she  would  go 
out,  the  air  would  revive  her,  a  walk  would  do  good 
both  to  her  and  mamma,  and  things  would  get  right 
again  without  the  help  of  physic  ;  or  should  these 
means  fail,  she  would  not  object  to  the  doctor's  being 
called  in  on  the  morrow. 

"The  house,  as  I  mentioned  before,  was  situated 
in  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  and  there  were  green 
lanes,  and  footpaths  leading  over  stiles  and  under 
hedgerows,  from  one  field  to  another,  in  its  neighbour- 
hood.    By  these  pleasant  ways  I  led  my  wife  and  her 


A  Night  t?i  a  Haunted  House.  35 

mother  a  stroll  of  some  hours,  and,  when  we  came 
back,  Mrs.  Hammond  was  really  so  much  cheered  up, 
and  altogether  so  difterent  from  what  she  had  been 
in  the  morning,  that  I  began  to  think  we  should,  after 
all,  be  able  to  do  without  the  doctor. 

"But,  on  coming  home,  I  found  new  perplexities 
awaiting  me.  No  sooner  had  I  entered  the  house 
than  John  (our  man-servant),  with  a  face  of  great 
mystery,  begged  I  would  let  him  speak  to  me  in 
private.  I  gave  him  an  audience,  and  he  told  me  a 
sufficiently  curious  story. 

"  He  had  been  brushing  my  clothes,  he  said,  in  the 
hall,  and,  he  confessed,  making  a  great  dust,  when 
he  heard,  as  he  thought,  the  French  Mamzell  coming 
down-stairs,  walking  in  a  sort  of  Popish  way  she  had 
lately  taken  to — on  her  heels.  He  stopped  brushing, 
that  she  might  not  be  incommoded  by  the  dust  as  she 
passed  ;  however,  there  was  still  quite  a  cloud  of  it 
in  the  hall  and  up  the  stairs,  and  he  was  not  at  all 
surprised  to  hear  her  sneeze  once  or  twice  on  her  way 
down.  But  when  she  came,  as  he  judged  by  the 
sound  of  the  steps,  to  the  landing-place  at  the  top  of 
the  last  flight  of  stairs,  leading  down  into  the  hall, 
and  which  was  full  in  his  view,  he  was  surprised,  for 
he  saw  nobody  !  The  steps,  nevertheless,  continued 
audibly  coming  down  towards  him — stump-stump, 
stump-stump — till  they  reached  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  came  on  directly  for  the  spot  where  he  was 
standing,  passed,  not  by,  but,  as  it  were,  through 
him,  as  if  he  had  been  so  much  air,  and  the  next 
moment  were  heard  behind  him,  going  along  the  hall 
towards  the  street  door.     After  the  lapse  of  about  a 


36  Weird  Tales. 

minute,  they  were  heard  as  if  coming  back  ;  again 
they  seemed  to  go  through  him  (he,  however,  not 
feeling  anything  as  he  was  thus  permeated),  and  finally 
they  went  up-stairs  in  the  same  stumping  manner  as 
they  had  come  down,  leaving  John  in  a  state  of 
amazement  to  which  no  words  could  do  justice. 

"  He  had  said  nothing,  John  added,  of  all  this  to 
the  maid,  as  he  saw  no  use  in  frightening  her,  and 
perhaps  making  her  unwilling  to  stay  in  the  house. 
As  for  him,  he  was  not  afraid ;  he  had  a  good 
conscience,  and  besides,  with  a  clergyman  in  the 
house,  he  thought  there  could  not  be  much  danger. 
He  had  considered  it  his  duty  to  tell  me,  both  as  a 
clergyman  and  as  his  master  ;  but,  if  he  might  venture 
to  speak,  he  would  say,  in  his  humble  judgment,  it 
was  better  '  missez '  and  the  other  females  should  hear 
nothing  about  it. 

"It  is  curious  that  at  this  very  time  Betsy,  our 
maid-servant,  was  making  a  communication  to  her 
mistress,  not  less  startling  and  mysterious  than  John's 
to  me.  Several  times  that  forenoon,  as  she  was  alone 
in  her  kitchen,  she  had  plainly  felt  something  brush 
by  her,  or  had  found  herself  jostled,  as  if  some  person 
whose  footing  was  not  steady  had  staggered  against 
her  in  passing.  There  was  no  sound  accompanying 
this,  and  poor  Betsy  could  not  tell  what  to  think  of 
it.  She  had  observed  silence  respecting  it  to  her 
fellow-servant,  lest  he  should  laugh  at  her. 

"  Thus,  John  and  Betsy  had  each  a  secret  from  the 
other,  and  the  same  was  the  case  between  my  wife 
and  me,  for  she  feared  to  teaze  me  with  the  maid's 
story,  and  I  feared  to  frighten  her  with  the  man's. 


A  Night  in  a  Hmuitcd  Hoiise.          37 

"The  night  came,  and  the  morning  in  due  time 
followed.  My  wife  was  in  the  veiy  same  state  as  the 
morning  previous  ;  had  had  she  knew  not  what  dream, 
of  which  no  trace  remained  at  awaking  but  in  the 
tone  it  had  given  to  her  spirits ;  if  possible,  her 
agitation  and  distress  were  greater  on  this  than  the 
preceding  day,  and  I  saw  that  the  matter  would  not 
brook  being  trifled  with.  At  breakfast  I  learned  that 
my  mother-in-law  had  had  her  usual  night's  unrest, 
and  no  sooner  was  the  meal  despatched  than  I  went 
to  look  for  the  doctor,  accompanied  by  whom,  I 
speedily  came  back  to  my  two  invalids. 

"The  doctor  was  one  of  the  few  Hiltonians  who 
did  not  believe  in  our  ghost,  and  who  continued  my 
good  friend  after  the  scandal  I  had  given  by  becoming 
the  tenant  of  the  haunted  house.  Having  been 
informed  that  my  wife  was  troubled  with  unpleasant 
dreams  at  night,  and  consequent  agitation  of  mind 
during  the  day,  he  felt  her  pulse,  told  her  that  she 
was  nervous,  but  he  would  soon  have  her  herself 
again,  and  then  began  to  chat  on  general  subjects. 

"  In  the  course  of  conversation  he  came  on  the 
subject  of  our  house,  and  asked  me  if  I  had  ever 
heard  the  history  of  its  first  possessor.  On  my 
replying  in  the  negative,  he  said  that  the  house  had 
been  built,  about  ninety  years  before,  by  a  lady  of  the 
Greenhorn  family,  who  was  said  to  have  been  a  great 
beauty,  as  far  as  the  face  and  upper  part  of  the  figure 
were  concerned,  but  who  unfortunately  had  club-feet. 
A  young  gentleman,  who  saw  this  lady  in  her  box  at 
the  theatre  one  evening,  fell  in  love  with  her,  met  her 
next  day  in  an  open  carriage  in  the  park,  and  a  mutual 


38  Weird  Tales. 

acquaintance  being  by  good  luck  at  hand,  got  intro- 
duced to  her  on  the  spot,  rode  two  hours  at  the  side 
of  her  carriage,  called  the  next  morning  to  hope  she 
had  caught  no  cold,  and,  in  short,  made  such  good 
use  of  his  time,  that  in  less  than  a  month  they  were  a 
betrothed  couple,  and  their  wedding-day  fixed.  All 
this  time  the  gentleman  had  never,  except  on  that  one 
occasion  in  the  theatre,  seen  the  lady  anywhere  out  of 
her  own  house,  but  in  the  open  carriage ;  and  ai 
home  he  always  found  her  sitting  on  a  particularly 
low  sofa,  her  hooped  petticoat  spreading  in  such  a 
wide  waste  of  satin  over  the  floor  all  round  her,  that 
not  only  were  her  feet  invisible,  but  it  was  impossible 
to  guess  whereabouts  they  were.  Thus  he  remained 
without  a  suspicion  of  the  truth,  until,  on  the  very 
morning  of  the  day  that  was  to  make  her  his  own  for 
ever,  fate  willed  that  a  boy  carrying  a  green  bag 
should  come  up  just  at  the  moment  that  he  was 
knocking  at  the  door.  The  door  opened,  the  gentle- 
man was  stepping  in,  when  the  boy  took  a  pair  of 
nondescript  objects  out  of  his  bag,  and  handed  them 
to  the  servant  with  the  words,  '  Miss  Greenhorn's 
shoes.'  The  bridegroom's  eye  rested  on  them.  'Are 
those  Miss  Greenhorn's  shoes?'  he  asked,  in  an  accent 
of  horror.  The  servant  look  confused,  but  the  boy 
answered  ingenuously,  'Yes,  sir.'  'And,' faltered  the 
unhappy  gentleman,  his  gaze  rivetted  on  the  dreadful 
tell-tales,  '  they  fit  her  ? '  '  Oh,  bless  you,  to  be  sure,' 
replied  the  boy,  in  a  cheerful  tone ;  '  all  the  ladies 
and  gentlemen  as  has  got  them  kind  of  feet  in  Lunnun 
deals  with  master,  and  he  have  the  knack  of  fitting  of 
'em,  just   as  if  they  was   reg'lar   Christians.'     The 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  39 

gentleman  did  not  say  another  word  ;  he  stared  wildly 
a  moment  at  the  boy,  then  turning  about,  ran  down 
the  steps,  climbed  into  the  carriage  that  had  brought 
him  to  the  place,  drove  to  the  nearest  hotel,  took 
post-horses  down  to  Dover,  and  embarked  by  that 
night's  packet  for  the  Continent.  The  lady  never  saw 
him  again,  and  the  servant's  report  of  what  had 
happened  left  no  doubt  of  the  cause  of  his  sudden 
disappearance.  She  left  town,  and  shut  herself  up  in 
her  house  at  Wester  Hilton,  where,  some  say,  she 
died  of  a  broken  heart,  others,  of  the  influenza,  and 
others,  again,  maintain  that  she  hanged  herself  in  her 
garters. 

"While  the  doctor  related  this  story,  my  wife 
looked  like  a  person  on  whose  mind  the  solution  of  a 
great  riddle  is  dawning,  and  as  he  pronounced  the 
concluding  words,  she  exclaimed,  '  That  is  what  I 
have  dreamed  these  two  nights  past.  I  remember  it 
all  now.'  She  then  told  us  that  this  very  story  had 
been  related  to  her,  both  the  last  night  and  the  night 
preceding,  by  the  unfortunate  lady  herself;  and 
though  it  had  till  this  moment  so  entirely  eluded  her 
waking  memory,  the  lively  feelings  of  sympathy  with 
which  she  had  listened  to  it  in  her  sleep  had  continued 
to  tingle  on,  even  when  she  could  not  recall  their 
origin.  The  lady,  she  added,  by  her  own  account, 
had  not  hanged  herself,  but  really  died  of  a  broken 
heart,  which  the  people  about  her  mistook  for  the 
influenza. 

"It  was  very  remarkable  that,  from  the  time  my 
wife  was  able  to  tell  her  dream,  its  effects  on  her 
spirits  went  off,  and  her  composure  and  cheerfulness 


40  Weird  Tales. 

returned.  In  fact,  the  change  was  so  obvious,  that 
the  doctor  gave  up  all  idea  of  prescribing  for  her,  and 
expressed  a  desire  to  see  his  other  patient,  for  my 
mother-in-law  had  not  been  present  at  the  conversa- 
tion. My  wife  went  to  look  for  her,  and  when  the 
doctor  found  himself  alone  with  me,  he  could  not 
help  expressing  his  wonder  at  the  circumstance,  that 
the  history  of  Miss  Greenhorn  should  have  been  the 
subject  of  a  dream  to  a  person  who  had  never  heard 
of  it.  With  true  medical  scepticism,  however,  he 
resolved  the  difficulty  by  supposing  either  that  my 
wife  had  heard  the  story  before,  and  forgotten  it,  or 
that  she  did  but  fancy  now  that  it  had  been  the 
subject  of  her  forgotten  dream.  I  was  not  quite 
satisfied  by  his  solution,  and  told  him  of  the  stumping 
and  sneezing  which  had  been  heard  by  John  the  day 
before.  But  he  had  a  very  ready  explanation  for 
this  :  the  rogue,  he  said,  had  certainly  heard  all  about 
the  club-footed  ghost  from  some  one  in  the  town,  and 
he  had  trumped  up  his  story,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
being  listened  to  by  his  master, 

"After  a  few  minutes  my  wife  returned,  accom- 
panied by  her  mother.  On  hearing  what  the  good 
lady  complained  of,  the  doctor  said  the  only  thing  he 
would  prescribe  for  her  was  an  attendant  to  sleep  in 
her  room.  She  was  quite  well,  he  assured  her,  and 
to  give  her  anything  to  make  her  sleep  would  be  to 
do  her  a  great  injury ;  a  few  nights  more  would 
accustom  her  to  her  new  bed  ;  she  should  go  out,  too, 
every  day,  and  she  would  soon  sleep  as  well  as  ever 
she  had  done  in  her  life.  In  the  meantime,  as  long 
as   watchfulness   did   continue   to    trouble    her,    the 


A  Night  ill  a  Hau}ited  House.         41 

presence  of  another  person  in  the  room  would  prevent 
her  feeling  it  dreary. 

**Thc  doctor  now  took  his  departure,  leaving  us 
all  in  much  better  spirits  than  he  had  found  us,  and 
the  day  passed  without  anything  remarkable  occurring. 
We  walked  out,  as  the  day  before  ;  and  the  air,  the 
sunshine,  and  the  face  of  the  earth  and  waters  put  to 
flight  all  lingering  shadows  which  the  night  had  left 
in  our  souls.  A  bed  was  put  in  my  mother-in-law's 
room  for  her  own  maid,  Annette,  and  at  the  end  of 
this  day  we  retired  to  rest  in  a  more  tranquil  and 
cheerful  mood  than  we  had  done  since  our  first  night 
in  the  haunted  house. 

"  Yet  this  night  was  the  last  we  were  to  spend  in 
it.  The  horror  became  too  great  to  be  endured,  and 
the  next  morning  I  removed  my  whole  household  to 
a  lodging  which  yielded  far  inferior  accommodation 
in  many  respects,  but  where,  at  least,  whatever  incon- 
veniences we  had  to  submit  to  arose  from  earthly 
causes.    But  you  shall  hear  how  the  night  was  passed. 

**I  might  have  slept  about  an  hour,  when  I  was 
awoke  by  my  wife,  who,  in  a  voice  that  expressed  an 
agony  of  terror,  asked  me  if  I  heard  nothing.  I 
listened — and  it  is  impossible  to  describe  to  you  the 
icy  feel  that  crept  over  me,  as  I  distinctly  heard  a  low 
wailing  and  sobbing,  as  if  of  a  person  in  the  bitterest 
grief,  and  which  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  for  a 
moment  was  in  the  room.  Never  did  human  tones 
meet  my  ear  that  gave  such  an  impression  of  utter 
and  desperate  sorrow  as  that  crying  did  :  my  own 
heart  was  wrung,  even  to  weeping,  as  I  listened  to  it, 
in   the  midst  of  all  the  horror  which   I  felt  at  the 


42  Weird  Tales. 

thought  that  a  being  was  neai-  me  whose  life  was  not 
of  the  earth — for  in  the  character  of  the  tones  I  felt 
there  was  something  not  earthly.  Shrill,  and  wild, 
and  yet  not  rising  above  a  kind  of  sighing  whisper, 
they  were  like  shrieks  heard  from  a  great  distance,  or 
like  the  faint  cries  of  a  dreaming  man,  who  tries  to 
shout.  It  was  some  moments  before  I  could  collect 
resolution  to  ask  who  was  there ;  when  I  did  so, 
there  was  no  answer,  nor  were  the  sounds  of  woe 
interrupted.  I  got  up  and  struck  a  light,  but  there 
was  no  one  to  be  seen  in  the  room  but  ourselves,  and 
still  the  wailing  continued.  I  approached  the  part  of 
the  room  from  which  the  tones  proceeded,  till  it 
seemed  to  me  that  the  invisible  mourner  was  close 
to  my  face;  I  put  out  my  hand,  but  no  substance 
encountered  its  touch.  I  made  a  step  in  advance, 
and  felt  that  I  was  standing  on  the  same  spot — filling 
the  same  space — with  a  being  whom  I  could  not  see, 
but  whose  voice  I  still  heard  distinctly,  and  now  as  if 
coming  out  of  my  own  breast !  Seized  with  insupport- 
able horror,  I  sprang  forward,  and  the  sounds  of 
lamentation  were  behind  me.  I  thought  now  of  what 
had  been  told  me  by  John  ;  this  mysterious  being  had 
passed  through  him,  or  he  through  it,  as  if  he  had 
been  air ;  and  so  had  I  now  passed  through  the  space 
occupied  by  it.  And  yet  this  being,  to  which  body 
was  no  obstacle,  and  which  was  itself  no  obstacle  to 
body,  was  no  unsubstantial  shadow,  for  John  had 
heard  its  footsteps,  and  I  was  at  this  moment  listening 
to  its  voice.  Such  things,  told  me  three  days  before, 
I  would  have  scouted,  as  contradicting  the  laws  which 
govern  the  universe ;    but   this  night  taught   me   to 


A  JVight  in  a  Haunted  House.  43 

suspect  that  there  were  '  more  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  than — '  you  know  the  rest  of  the  quotation. 

"All  hope  of  sleep  was  gone.  I  lay  down  in  bed, 
but  left  the  light  burning  ;  and  now  my  wife  told  me, 
in  broken  whispers,  what  had  happened  the  maid  the 
day  before, — a  confidence  which  I  requited  in  kind, 
by  imparting  to  her,  in  the  same  suppressed  accents, 
all  about  John  and  the  footsteps. 

'"This  is  a  dreadful  house,'  said  my  wife;  'I 
never  believed  in  such  things  before,  but  you  may 
depend  on  it,  it  is  haunted  by  the  club-footed  lady.' 

"Scarcely  had  she  spoken  these  words  when 
stumping  footsteps  were  heard  approaching  the  bed. 
Our  hearts  beat  aloud  with  terror  ;  but  at  the  moment 
that  the  steps  reached  the  bedside  all  was  still,  and 
an  air,  as  of  the  charnel,  seemed  to  float  around  us,  for 
perhaps  half  a  minute,  and  then  passed  gradually  away. 

'*  That,  I  may  say,  was  the  drop  that  made  the  cup 
overflow.  My  wife  lay  more  dead  than  ahve,  and  it 
was  only  the  necessity  of  supporting  her  that  enabled 
me  to  preserve  some  remains  of  composure.  As 
soon  as  she  had  in  some  degree  recovered  herself,  I 
promised  her  that  we  should  leave  the  house  at  as 
early  an  hour  as  possible  next  morning,  and  rather 
submit  to  be  lodged  less  roomily,  for  a  while,  than 
once  more  encounter  what  we  had  been  this  night 
exposed  to.  But  the  terrors  of  the  night  were  not 
yet  at  an  end. 

"My  mother  in-law  slept  in  the  room  over  ours, 
and,  as  I  have  mentioned,  her  maid  Annette,  on  this 
night,  shared  her  bedchamber.  While  my  wife  and 
I  were  talking  over  our  designs  for  ihe  morrow,  we 


44  Weird  Tales. 

suddenly  heard  the  good  lady's  voice  overhead,  in  a 
loud  and  anxious  tone,  calling  '  Annette  ! ' — a  piercing 
shriek  from  the  maid  succeeded.  We  were  both  on 
our  feet  in  a  moment,  and  hastily  wrapping  ourselves 
in  whatever  lay  nearest,  we  flew  up-stairs.  On 
entering  the  room,  we  found  the  girl  sitting  up  in  her 
bed,  her  fac6  white,  her  eyes  dilated,  pointing  with 
frantic  terror  towards  my  mother-in-law,  who  lay  in 
her  own  bed,  apparently  awake,  but  motionless,  and 
with  an  indescribable  character  of  anxiety  and  inde- 
finable distress  stamped  on  her  features,  like  one 
suffering  under  an  attack  of  nightmare.  '  There, 
there,'  cried  the  girl,  in  her  own  language,  'don't 
you  see  it  ?  It  lies  where  madame  lay  but  this 
moment.  Ah  !  mon  Dietc,  I  see  them  both  lying  in 
the  same  place  ! '  I  followed  the  direction  of  her 
finger,  but  saw  only  my  mother-in-law,  lying  in  the 
state  1  have  already  described ;  but  my  wife  clung 
almost  fainting  to  my  arm,  and  whispered,  scarce 
audibly,  *  I  see  it  ! '  I  asked  what  she  saw,  but  she 
could  only  say,  '  Take  my  mother  out  of  the  bed — I 
will  help  you. ' 

"Wrapping  the  good  lady  in  the  bedclothes,  we 
lifted  her  up,  though  not  without  difficulty,  for  she 
was  perfectly  cataleptic,  every  muscle  rigid  as  iron, 
and  her  body  weighing  like  a  mass  of  lead.  But  the 
moment  we  had  succeeded  in  drawing  her  aside  a 
little,  both  the  rigidity  and  the  preternatural  weight 
all  at  once  disappeared,  the  haggard  look  passed 
from  her  countenance,  and  she  came  to  herself  in  a 
way  that  I  can  only  give  you  an  idea  of,  by  saying 
that  it  seemed  as  if  a  spell  had  been  broken. 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  45 

"However,  we  brought  lier  down-stairs,  followed 
by  Annette,  whom  no  power  on  earth  could  induce 
to  remain  in  the  room  a  moment  by  herself,  and  who 
trembled  and  sobbed  hysterically,  as  she  collected  her 
mistress's  and  her  own  clothes  ;  for  it  was  determined 
that  all  should  dress,  and  that  there  should  be  no 
talk  of  going  to  bed  again  in  the  house.  Leaving 
the  good  lady  and  her  maid  with  my  wife,  therefore, 
to  put  themselves  in  a  condition  to  stay  up,  I  went 
to  call  the  other  servants,  that  we  might  have  fires 
lighted,  and  pass  the  night  with  as  little  discomfort 
as  circumstances  would  permit. 

"John  was  awake,  and  seemed  veiy  glad  when  I 
told  him  to  get  up  and  dress  himself.  He  had  heard 
the  heels,  he  said,  stumping  about  the  house,  more 
than  once  during  the  night,  and  the  doors  of  different 
rooms  opening  and  shutting,  and  had  not  been  able 
to  close  an  eye  for  uneasiness  ;  though  he  had  a  good 
conscience,  he  said,  too — to  say  nothing  of  the 
encouragement  he  found  in  thinking  that  his  master 
was  a  clergyman.  Betsy  I  found  not  only  awake, 
but  up  and  dressed  :  she  had  been  afraid  to  go  to 
bed,  and  was  sitting  at  the  window  of  her  room, 
which  she  had  opened  for  the  sake  of  company. 
The  poor  soul  had  had  a  dreadful  fright,  and  was 
crying  bitterly  ;  her  candle  had  been  blown  out, 
and  her  foot  trod  on  by  she  could  not  tell  what 
strange  animal  in  the  dark,  and  she  hoped  I  would 
not  take  it  amiss,  but  she  was  going  to-morrow. 
She  knew  she  must  forfeit  her  wages,  but  gold  would 
not  pay  for  what  she  endured  in  that  house  ;  and  her 
only  regret  was,  in  leaving  without  giving  '  missez ' 


46  Weird  Tales. 

time  to  suit  herself.  I  told  her  we  were  all  going 
to-morrow,  so  that  there  would  be  no  need  of  parting ; 
and  comforted  her  much  by  the  intelligence  that  all 
in  the  house  were  up,  and  that  she  would  find  John 
in  the  kitchen. 

"  On  meeting  in  the  breakfast  room,  in  which  a 
good  fire  was  soon  blazing,  my  wife  and  I  on  one 
side,  and  my  mother-in-law  and  her  maid  on  the 
other,  compared  notes  on  the  night's  disturbances. 
My  mother-in-law  and  she  had  awakened  as  usual, 
with  the  impression  of  having  been  called,  and,  feeling 
the  same  vague  inquietude  as  on  former  nights,  had 
waked  Annette  for  company ;  that,  presently  after, 
the  sense  of  suffocating  oppression  and  nameless 
dread,  the  approaches  of  which  she  now  knew  so 
well,  had  come  over  her,  and  from  that  time  she  had 
lain  unconscious,  but  deprived  of  all  power  of  speech 
and  motion,  until  my  wife  and  I  removed  her  from 
the  place  she  was  lying  in,  when  it  had  seemed  to 
her  as  if  she  had  been  taken  out  of  an  atmosphere 
in  which  she  could  not  breathe,  into  the  pure  air, 
and  her  faculties  had  returned  to  her  at  once. 

"Annette's  account  was  this:  on  awaking  at  her 
mistress's  call,  she  saw  a  woman,  with  frightfully 
misshapen  feet,  in  the  act  of  stepping  up  on  the  bed 
of  the  good  lady.  Her  first  thought  was,  that  it 
was  a  crazy  person,  who  by  some  accident  had  got 
into  the  house  ;  but  what  was  her  horror  when  she 
saw  the  woman  lie  down,  not  beside  her  mistress, 
but  in  the  very  place  where  the  latter  was  already 
lying  !  This  was  what  had  drawn  from  her  the 
shriek  which  had   reached  our  ears.      At   first,  the 


A  Night  171  a  Haunted  House.  47 

woman's  figure  had,  as  it  -were,  seemed  to  obliterate 
that  of  her  mistress  ;  but  as  her  eyes  dwelt  longer 
on  the  horrid  object,  the  lineaments  of  both  forms 
were  plainly  visible  to  her,  each  filling  the  place,  yet 
neither  displacing  the  other,  as  if  two  transparent 
pictures  were  laid  together,  and  held  up  between  the 
beholder  and  the  light  ! 

*'  Something  of  the  same  kind  had  been  seen  by 
my  wife.  As  she  looked  at  her  mother  lying  on  the 
bed,  the  uncertain  contour  of  another  shape  had 
seemed  to  her  to  blend  dimly  with  that  of  the  known 
one,  bewildering  her  eye  in  the  manner  which  is 
experienced  when  two  shapes  of  the  same  object  illude 
the  vision,  the  one  almost  covering  the  other,  but  the 
baffling  outlines  refusing  to  merge  into  singleness, 
and  to  give  to  the  sense  the  impression  of  that  unity 
which  the  understanding  is  convinced  of. 

"  The  next  morning,  as  I  said,  we  left  the  house, 
to  the  great  triumph  of  the  Wester  Hiltonians,  to 
whom  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  perceiving  that  my 
ministry  now  became  more  acceptable  than  ever. 
I  was  a  convert  to  their  way  of  thinking,  and  they 
set  more  store  by  me  than  by  ninety  and  nine  who 
had  never  been  in  the  wrong  about  the  haunted 
house,  and  had  no  need  to  be  converted. 

'*  That's  the  end  of  my  story,  my  dear  sir,  and  I 
have  to  apologize  to  you,  and  indeed  to  all  our 
friends,  here,  for  making  it  so  long." 

I  will  not  relate  the  conversation  which  ensued  on 
the  end  of  the  clergyman's  narrative.  Suffice  it  to 
say,  that  I  was  not  brought  over,  by  anything  that  it 
contained,  to  the  side  of  the  superstitious  party.     I 


48  Weird  Tales. 

explained  all  that  he  and  his  family  had  experienced 
— or  seemed  to  themselves  to  have  experienced — in 
Mr.  Greenhorn's  house,  by  the  well-known  agency  of 
the  imagination  ;  and  on  his  asking  me,  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  thinks  himself  armed  with  a  real  poser, 
how  could  so  many  people  imagine  the  same  thing, 
I  replied  that  nothing  was  more  easily  accounted  for, 
this  being  nothing  more  than  a  curious — and  I  would 
not  deny  it  to  be  a  curious  coincidence.  I  believe  the 
clergyman  felt  that  I  was  too  many  for  him,  for,  after 
this  answer,  he  did  not  try  me  again. 

However,  what  I  had  heard  added  to  the  liveliness 
of  my  wish  to  pass  a  night  in  the  house  of  which  such 
absurd  stories  were  related.  What  Mr.  Hammond 
had  failed  in  I  would  accomplish  ;  I  felt  that  it  was 
an  achievement  reserved  for  me,  to  disenchant  the 
Wester  Hiltonians,  to  slay  their  dragons,  and  enable 
them  to  call  their  town  their  own — for  surely  it  was 
not  their  own,  so  long  as  they  abandoned  one  house 
that  it  contained  to  the  possession  of  a  pretended 
denizen  of  the  other  world. 

Harry  Fenwick  was  as  anxious  as  I  that  I  should 
pass  a  night  in  the  "haunted  house,"  though  his 
views,  in  desiring  it,  were  different  from  mine.  He 
wished  to  win  me  over  to  the  dark  ages  ;  I,  to  gain 
him,  and  all  his  neighbourhood,  for  the  nineteenth 
century.  But  my  concern  was  not  with  his  motives, 
and  I  thankfully  accepted  his  offer  of  writing  to  Mr. 
Greenhorn,  to  obtain  me  permission  to  undertake  the 
enterprise  I  was  bent  on. 

Mr.  Greenhorn's  consent  was  readily  given.  Indeed, 
there   was   nothing   that  he  wished  more  than  that 


A  Night  in  a  Haiuited  House.  49 

somebody  might  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  mystery  attach- 
ing to  his  house ;  and,  from  the  way  in  which  Harr}' 
Fenwick  wrote  (as  I  suppose  he  did)  of  me,  no  doubt 
he  saw  that  I,  if  any  one,  was  the  person  to  fathom  it. 

It  was  on  Saturday,  the  first  of  April,  that  my 
preparations  for  the  exploit  were  completed,  and, 
late  in  the  evening,  I  sallied  forth  in  Harry's  gig, 
with  a  man-servant  of  his  from  a  distant  part  of 
the  country  to  drive  me,  for  Wester  Hilton.  In  the 
gig  was  a  basket,  containing  a  bottle  of  Madeira,  and 
other  materials  for  a  cold  supper,  besides  a  couple  of 
books,  and  a  brace  of  pistols.  For  fire  and  light,  I 
reckoned  upon  the  caretaker  (the  same  Mr.  Hammond 
had  found  there),  an  Irishman,  as  I  was  informed,  of 
the  name  of  Leary,  to  whom  I  had  an  order  for 
admission  from  Mr.  Greenhorn. 

Wester  Hilton  seemed  a  pretty,  little,  old-fashioned 
town,  as  well  as  I  could  judge  by  the  twilight,  which, 
as  we  drove  into  the  main  street,  was  fast  changing 
into  darkness.  My  guide  knew  no  more  than  I  where 
the  house  was  which  was  the  place  of  my  destina- 
tion ;  all  we  knew  was,  that  it  was  in  the  outskirts 
of  the  town,  and,  as  most  towns  have  outskirts  all 
round  them,  this  was  too  wide  a  direction  to  be 
practically  useful.  To  meet  the  difficulty,  I  made  him 
draw  up  as  we  were  about  passing  a  group  of  little 
boys,  who  were  amusing  themselves  somewhat  noisily 
about  the  town  fountain,  and,  calling  to  the  one  I 
saw  nearest,  I  asked  whereabouts  was  Mr.  Green- 
bom's  house  ? 

"  Mr.  Greenborn  has  two  houses,"  was  the  urchin's 
reply. 

/  D 


50  Weird  Tales. 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  have  a  letter  to  a  man  named  Leary, 
a  cai'etaker  ;  I  want  the  house  he  has  the  care  of." 

"They  are  both  in  the  care  of  Learys — Mat 
Leary  takes  care  of  one  and  Mick  Leary  of  the 
other." 

■  *'  Humph,"  said  I,  *'  ray  note  is  addressed  '  M. 
Leary ' ;  that  may  be  either  Mat  or  Mick  ;  I  don't 
know  what  to  do." 

*'The  gemman  wants  the  house  where  the  lady  is, 
what  makes  a  queer  noise  with  her  feet,"  said  my 
guide,  coming  to  my  assistance  in  a  very  handsome 
.nanner. 

"There  are  two  ladies  that  make  queer  noises 
with  their  feet,"  was  the  baffling  reply. 

"  The  gemman  wants  to  go  to  the  house  where  the 
lady  is  what's  dead,  then,"  said  the  man,  "and  now 
you  have  it." 

"  And  what  does  he  want  to  do  there  ?  " 

**  He's  a-going  to  spend  the  night  there." 

"  That's  rum,  that  is  ! — what's  he  going  to  do  that 
for  ?  " 

"  That's  my  business,  my  good  boys,"  said  I  (for 
the  whole  party  had  collected  about  us  during  the 
colloquy) ;  "  all  I  request  of  you  is,  to  be  so  obliging 
as  to  direct  me  to  the  house." 

The  boys  whispered  together,  and  I  heard  the  word 
*' Prime  !"  pronounced  by  several  of  them  in  tones 
of  great  approbation.  Then  the  boys,  one  and  all, 
vociferously  proclaimed  their  readiness  to  act  as  my 
guides,  and  ran  off"  in  a  troop,  crying,  "  This  way  ! 
this  way  ! "  the  gig  following  at  the  cautious  pace 
necessary  in  driving  over  the  pavement  of  a  town  at 


A  Alight  171  a  HauTited  House.  5 1 

dusk.  We  passed  through  several  streets,  of  various 
degrees  of  narrowness,  and  then  came  to  a  com- 
plicated knot  of  lanes,  dark  and  steep,  containing  the 
habitations  of  the  poorer  people,  and  alive  with 
children,  who  were  snatching  a  brief  hour's  bliss 
among  the  puddles,  before  being  called  into  bed.  As 
my  guides  scoured  along,  whooping  like  wild  Indians, 
stopping  now  and  then  at  the  corners  to  let  the  gig 
come  up,  they  indulged  in  all  sorts  of  tricks  appro- 
priate to  the  day — giving  runaway  knocks  at  hall- 
doors,  whipping  each  other's  caps  off,  and  "  shying  " 
them  in  at  open  parlour  windows,  where  quiet 
families  were  at  tea ;  calling  over  half-doors  into 
shops  for  penn'orths  of  all  kinds  of  things  that  were 
never  sold,  and  exclaiming,  in  the  hearing  of  mothers 
who  knew  that  their  children  were  out,  that  a  baby 
had  just  been  run  over  by  the  gig,  and  was  lying  in 
two  halves  in  the  gutter  !  To  any  of  their  own 
order  whom  they  met,  and  who  demanded  where 
they  were  going,  they  stated  that  there  was  a  great 
conjuror  come  to  town  for  the  purpose  of  laying  the 
ghost ;  that  I  was  he,  that  the  other  chap  (meaning 
the  servant)  was  the  devil,  and  that  they  (the  boys) 
were  showing  us  the  way  to  the  haunted  house. 
This  announcement  (to  which  I  perceived  that  some- 
thing very  short  was  added  in  a  whisper)  was  always 
received  with  expressions  of  enthusiastic  delight,  and 
produced  the  immediate  accession  of  all  who  heard 
it,  to  the  ranks  of  my  escort. 

At   length   we  were  out  of  the   lanes,  which  had 
gradually  conducted  us  to  a  height  overlooking  the 
greater  part  of  Wester  Hilton,  and  where  the  breath 
i 


52  Weird  Tales. 

of  the  open  country  came  upon  us  with  a  welcome 
freshness,  after  the  close  and  dingy  labryinth  through 
which  we  had  just  passed.  One  large,  dark-looking 
house  stood  here  alone.  "That's  it  !  there  you  are, 
sir  !  that's  your  address  ! "  burst  from  my  conductors 
in  chorus.  I  thanked  them  for  their  obliging  services, 
and  they  stood  huddled  together  in  a  watchful  group, 
at  some  distance  from  the  dreaded  mansion,  while 
the  gig  drove  up  to  the  foot  of  the  broad  steps  that 
led  to  its  door. 

I  will  not  say  that  there  was  absolutely  nothing 
queer  in  my  sensations  as  I  alighted,  and  walked  up 
the  steps,  through  the  interstices  of  which,  as  I  felt 
rather  than  saw,  a  rank  growth  of  grass  had  found 
way.  Nor  will  I  be  positive  that  the  prevailing  tone 
of  my  mind  was  liveliness,  as  I  looked  up  at  the 
house,  with  the  consciousness  in  my  mind  of  what 
had  brought  me  there.  It  was  a  tall,  black-looking, 
silent  building,  with  a  wide  area  on  each  side  of  the 
door-steps,  to  look  down  into  which,  at  this  hour, 
was  like  looking  into  bottomless  gulfs  of  darkness. 
It  seemed  as  if  that  murky  chasm  cut  off  the  house 
from  the  living  world — as  if  he  who  ascended  those 
steps  crossed  a  bridge  that  carried  him  from  the 
pleasant  earth  into  he  knew  not  what  doleful  region, 
from  which  there  might  be  no  return.  Even  the 
windows,  through  which  no  glimmer  of  light  came 
to  indicate  that  all  the  wide  extent  of  the  house  was 
not  abandoned  to  utter  loneliness,  seemed  to  survey 
me  with  a  strange  spectral  look,  as  I  stood  still  for 
a  moment,  when  half-way  up,  and  ran  my  eyes  over 
the  whole  spacious  front,  in  search  of  some  token  of 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  53 

the  presence  of  anything  within,  that  yet  belonged 
to  the  fellowship  of  the  living. 

"There  are  no  such  things  as  ghosts,"  said  I, 
encouragingly,  to  myself;  "let  me  not  forget  in 
what  century  I  live ;  these  are  not  the  dark  ages. 
The  house  looks  dreary,  but  so  all  uninhabited  houses 
do  ;  I  was  prepared  for  that — it  is  quite  natural,  and 
so  is  the  grass  on  the  steps — nothing  more  so. " 

It  was,  nevertheless,  with  some  tumult  about  the 
heart  that  I  lifted  the  huge  knocker  (for  everything 
there  was  huge),  and  knocked  at  the  door.  The 
sound  of  the  knock  itself  had  something  hollow  and 
sepulchral,  I  thought,  and  seemed  to  awaken  a 
hundred  dim  echoes  in  the  vast  space  of  the  empty 
rooms  and  passages,  which  spoke  of  solitude  and 
desolation  with  a  gloomy  eloquence  not  calculated  to 
raise  my  spirits.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  rashly  uttered  a 
spell, — as  if  I  had  summoned  a  spirit, — and,  if  I  must 
tell  the  truth,  the  hope  I  was  at  that  moment  most 
disposed  to  take  to  my  heart  was,  that  he  would 
not  come.  I  don't  think  I  should  have  felt  a  whit 
mortified  at  the  slight  personal  estimation  in  which 
such  disregard  of  my  summons  might  have  implied 
that  I  was  held  in  the  other  world. 

After  knocking,  I  waited  a  long  time,  but  there 
was  no  answer  ;  and  the  silence  impressed  me  with 
such  a  sense  of  I  knew  not  what,  that  I  felt  half 
inclined  to  get  into  the  gig  again,  drive  back  to 
Bleaklawns,  and  say  I  had  not  been  able  to  get 
into  the  house. 

I  did  not  do  that — I  knew  Harry  Fenwick  ;  and, 
after  waiting  about  five  times  as  long  as  one  generally 


54. 


Weird  Tales. 


does,  or  as  I  would  have  done  at  any  other  door,  I 
gave  another  knock.  This  time  there  was  an  answer. 
Heavy  steps  made  themselves  heard  from  within,  not, 
as  it  seemed,  in  the  hall,  but  in  a  room  adjoining  ; 
then  one  of  the  windows  overlooking  the  area  was 
opened,  and  a  gruff  voice  asked,  "Who  the  devil 
was  there  ?  " 

I  said  I  had  a  note  from  Mr,  Greenhorn  to  the 
caretaker  of  the  house  ;  and  if  he,  as  I  supposed, 
was  that  person,  I  would  trouble  him  to  come  to  the 
door. 

Instead  of  doing  this,  he  reached  me  a  stick  out 
of  the  window,  and  bid  me  "  fix  the  letter  in  that." 
The  end  of  the  stick  was  split,  and  I  placed  the  letter 
in  it,  marvelling,  however,  at  the  excessive  reluctance 
the  fellow  showed  to  quit  his  solitude.  I  thought, 
if  I  were  the  inmate  of  such  a  dwelling,  I  should  be 
glad  at  any  time  to  come  to  the  door,  and  hold  a 
little  converse  with  mortals  yet  in  the  body.  But 
the  man  seemed  to  have  got  used  to  spiritual  society, 
and  had  no  wish  to  extend  his  acquaintance  in  an 
earthly  direction.  After  a  while,  his  steps  were 
heard  coming  along  the  hall,  then  there  was  the 
moving  of  a  chain,  the  drawing  of  bolts,  the  taking 
down  (to  judge  by  the  sound)  of  a  ponderous  bar, 
and,  lastly,  the  turning  of  the  massive  key,  which 
grated  in  the  lock  as  if  it  liked  the  work  it  was 
doing  as  little  as  he  in  whose  hand  it  was  held. 

At  last  the  door  opened,  grinding  and  growling  on 
its  hinges  as  if  it  had  no  more  mind  to  be  opened 
than  the  key  and  the  porter  had  to  open  it  :  it  did 
open,    nevertheless,    and    the    man   of   the   window 


A  Alght  ill  a  Haunted  House.  5  5 

appeared,  with  a  candle  in  his  hand.  He  was  rather 
a  savage-looking  fellow,  strongly  built,  and  with 
something  peculiarly  hard  and  determined  in  his 
look.  I  recollected  what  Mr.  Hammond  had  said 
of  him,  and  could  not  but  confess  that,  had  there 
been  such  a  thing  as  a  ghost,  he  was,  to  all  appear- 
ance, the  very  man  to  keep  house  with  it. 

*'  This  is  a  curious  thing,"  said  he,  in  a  tone  that 
did  not  express  much  liking  or  respect  for  my 
person  ;  "  what's  the  meaning  of  it  at  all  ?  " 

" Does  not  the  note  tell  you  what  you  are  to  do? " 
said  I. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  it,  I  say,"  repeated  he  ; 
**  or  what  do  you  want  in  the  place  ?  " 

*'I  am  the  bearer  of  a  note  to  you,"  replied  I, 
"  from  the  gentleman  in  whose  employment  you  are. 
If  I  am  not  mistaken,  he  directs  you  to  suffer  me  to 
pass  a  night  in  the  house  alone,  I  must  remark,  my 
good  fellow,  that  I  am  surprised — much  surprised — at 
the  reception  you  give  me,  coming  to  you  v.ith  such 
authority." 

"  It's  a  devil  of  a  curious  thing!"  said  the  man. 
soliloquizingly,  and  not  appearing  to  have  heard  my 
last  words — "  it's  a  thing  I  don't  know  the  meaning  of, 
at  all  at  all."  Then  eyeing  me  with  great  disfavour, 
and  with  a  strong  expression  of  suspicion  in  his 
features,  he  asked  rudely,  "  And  what  do  you  want 
to  pass  a  night  in  the  house  for  ?  " 

"  I  should  think,"  answered  I,  "it  may  suffice  you 
that  Mr.  Greenhorn  places  me  at  liberty  to  do  so  :  if 
he  is  satisfied,  I  presume  you  may  be  so  !  " 

"  I'm  not  satisfied,  then,"  said  the  fellow,  with  an 


56  Weird  Tales. 

oath.  *'This  paper  says,  '  Let  the  bearer  take  your 
place  for  one  night,  or  more  if  he  wishes — but  he 
won't.  Place  everything  at  his  disposal,  and  make 
him  as  comfortable  as  you  can.  You  can  go  to  the 
other  house  for  the  night,  or  to  the  Greenhorn  Arms 
if  you  like  it  better.  Signed,  Valentine  Greenhorn." 
I  say  I'm  not  satisfied  at  all :  I  want  no  one  to  take 
my  place." 

**  Why,  what  objection  can  you  possibly  have, 
when  the  gentleman  who  owns  the  house  has 
none?"  exclaimed  I,  more  and  more  surprised  at  his 
demeanour. 

**  What  objection,  is  it?  Why  wouldn't  I  have  an 
objection  ?  I'm  to  give  you  up  my  place  for  a  night ! 
And  where  would  I  be  if  you  wouldn't  give  it  back  to 
me  again  in  the  morning  ?  " 

*'  Not  give  it  back  to  you  !  Oh,  upon  that  score,  I 
assure  you,  you  may  be  perfectly  easy.  One  night  is 
all  I  wish  for.  I  am  surprised  you  think  I  want  to 
make  a  longer  stay." 

*'  But  I  do  think  it,"  persisted  the  man :  **sure  I 
see  it  plain  enough  " — and  his  voice  grew  hoarse  with 
anger — "  it 's  to  supplant  me  is  what  you  want  to  do." 

"To  supplant  you  !" 

"  Ay,  to  supplant  me — to  get  the  place.  That's 
English,  isn't  it  ?  You  want  to  get  the  place.  You'd 
take  it  a  night  on  trial,  and  you'd  take  it  to-morrow 
for  good.  And  I'm  to  put  everything  at  your  disposal, 
and  make  you  as  comfortable  as  I  can  ?  The  devil 
may  make  you  comfortable  (or  warm,  anyhow),  and 
to  him  I  pitch  you." 

I  had  never  been  treated  with  such  rudeness  in  my 


A  Night  in  a  Haimted  House.  5  7 

life,  and  I  felt  inexpressibly  shocked  :  it  mortified  me, 
too,  to  be  taken  for  a  person  of  the  class  likely  to 
come  on  the  errand  he  supposed.  Did  I  look  like  a 
servant  out  of  place  ?     I  could  not  utter  a  word. 

*'  Go  away,"  continued  the  fellow  ;  "you're  losing 
you're  time.  They  were  looking  for  an  April  fool 
that  sent  you  here.  Go  home  with  you,  man.  You're 
not  fit  for  the  place,  I  tell  you.  You  haven't  it  in 
your  eye.  You  have  neither  the  constitution  nor  the 
courage  for  it.  She'd  frighten  you  out  of  your  life  in 
the  first  three  days.  She'd  cow  you,  man  alive,  and 
then  where  would  you  be  ?  Under  her  feet.  And 
pretty  feet  they  would  be  to  be  under." 

I  confess  that  a  thrill  ran  through  my  heart  at  these 
words,  they  conveyed  so  direct  an  allusion  to  the 
club-footed  lady.  However,  as  soon  as  I  could  find 
utterance,  I  assured  him  that  his  suspicions  were 
misplaced  ;  that  I  had  no  ambition  to  supplant  him 
in  his  place  ;  that  I  was  a  person  in  his  master's  rank 
in  life,  and  had  a  servant  of  my  own  in  London, 
where  I  lived  when  I  was  at  home.  That  I  was  at 
this  time  on  a  visit  at  Mr.  Fenwick's,  of  Bleaklawns, 
in  whose  gig  I  had  come,  and  whose  servant  was  at 
that  moment  sitting  in  the  said  gig,  with  a  basket  for 
me,  and  would  put  up  for  the  night  at  the  Greenhorn 
Arms,  and  come  to  fetch  me  in  the  morning.  "He 
shall  give  you  a  set  down,"  said  I,  "  if  you  like  ;  you 
can  go  in  the  gig  anywhere  you  fix  on,  to  spend  the 
night.  That  will  convince  you.  Look,  there  is  the 
gig  in  the  street ;  I  am  sure  you  must  perceive,  vo7i\ 
that  I  am  a  respectable  person." 

By  degrees,   conviction   appeared  to  dawn  on  his 


58  Weird  Tales. 

mind,  and  when  I  added  the  clinching  argument  of  a 
guinea,  that  he  might  drink  my  health  at  the  Green- 
born  Arms,  the  last  shadow  of  a  doubt  fled ;  I  had 
paid  my  footing,  and  was  free  of  the  haunted  house. 
Well,  I  ran  down  to  the  gig,  and  received  the  basket 
from  the  servant's  hand.  It  occurred  to  me  that  the 
young  man  might  like  to  share  my  adventure,  and 
I  made  him  the  offer,  which  was  "declined  with 
thanks."  I  now  entered  the  house,  and  found  its 
internal  aspect  not  such  as  to  belie  the  external,  A 
wide  hall,  wainscoted,  and  looking  vaster  than  it  was 
by  the  light  of  a  single  candle  ;  a  broad  staircase,  of  a 
most  forlorn  aspect,  with  a  massive  wooden  balustrade, 
that  spoke  of  times  when  the  old  mansion  was  merrier ; 
a  long  passage,  along  which  the  echoes  of  our  own  foot- 
steps pursued  us,  and  shot  the  thought  into  my  brain, 
"What  sort  of  footsteps  shall  I,  perhaps,  hear  along 
this  passage,  when  this  man  has  left  me  alone  in  the 
house";  then  another  staircase — a  back  staircase, 
narrow,  of  stone,  winding  down  into  regions  I  could 
only  guess  at,  and  up  to  the  second  floor,  to  which 
we  ascended  by  it ;  finally,  a  back-room  on  the  second 
floor,  into  which  my  guide  conducted  me,  and  in 
which  a  fire  was  burning.  This  was  the  room,  he 
said,  he  generally  kept  in,  and  he  thought  I  should 
be  more  comfortable  there  than  anywhere  else ;  there 
was  his  bedroom  adjoining,  in  case  I  should  feel 
inclined  to  take  a  stretch  in  the  course  of  the  night. 

After  making  some  arrangements  for  my  accommo- 
dation, the  man  was  going  to  take  leave,  when  I 
thought  I  should  like  first  to  have  a  few  words  of 
conversation  with  him  about  the  ghost.     I  therefore 


A  Night  in  a  Haunied  House.  59 

asked  him,  as  he  was  about  to  quit  the  room,  whether 
he  ever  sa-M  the — the  lady,  in  short,  with  the  ckib- 
feet? 

"Did  he  ever  see  her?"  repeated  the  man,  in 
surprise  :  to  be  sure  he  saw  her,  every  night  of  his 
life. 

"Every  nighi?^^  said  I.  "Then  she  doesn't 
appear  in  the  day-time  ?  " 

"  Not  often,"  was  his  reply. 

"And,  do  you  think  it  likely,  may  I  ask,  that  / 
shall  see  her  to-night  ? "  inquired  I,  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  finding  the  man  give  such  an  unequivocal 
testimony  to  the  reality  of  the  apparition. 

"  Will  you  see  her  to-night  ?  To  be  sure  you  will," 
answered  he,  with  a  look  of  surprise.  "What  would 
hinder  you  ?  " 

"Then  she  appears  every  night?"  said  I,  hoiking 
perhaps  to  hear  that  now  and  then,  at  however  long 
intervals,  a  night  passed  without  the  visitation. 

"  Every  night,  as  sure  as  the  night  comes." 

"And,"  I  hesitatingly  asked,  "are  you  not  at  all 
afraid  of  her  ?  " 

"Faith,  I'm  not,"  replied  the  fellow,  with  a 
hardened  laugh.  "  It's  little  use  I'd  be  here,  if  I 
was.     It 's  she,  poor  soul,  that's  afraid  of  me." 

I  was  thunderstruck. 

"And  you  must  make  her  afraid  of  you  too,"  he 
pursued,  "or  faith  she'll  make  you  afraid  of  her,  sure 
enough  ;  and  if  she  sees  that,  you're  a  lost  man.  I 
see  you're  a  gentleman  that  has  no  notion  or  under- 
standing of  these  kind  of  things,  and  I  can't  think,  at 
all  at  all,  what  made  you  come  here.     But  I  tell  you, 


6o  Weird  Tales. 

you  mustn't  let  her  think  you're  afraid  of  her,  or  you're 
done  for.  It's  the  eye  does  it  all ;  keep  a  steady  eye, 
if  you  can,  and  you'll  manage  her  easy.  A  child 
could  manage  them,  if  it  would  keep  a  steady  eye." 

"But,  dear  me,"  pleaded  I,  "surely  if  I  am  afraid, 
she  will  know  it,  in  spite  of  any  efforts  I  may  make 
to  keep  from  showing  it  in  my  countenance.  Surely 
it  is  impossible  to  deceive  such  a  being. 

**  It  isn't  easy,"  replied  the  man  ;  "  but  it  is  isn't 
impossible  all  out.  Still,  I  don't  think  yoii'll  do  it, 
and  upon  my  soul,  sir,  I'm  sorry  to  leave  you  in  this 
house  to-night.  If  I  was  a  gentleman  of  your  meek 
temper,  I  wouldn't  be  a  night  in  this  house  for  a 
thousand  pounds.     Good  night,  sir." 

With  these  encouraging  words  he  withdrew.  I 
went  to  the  door  of  the  room,  listened  to  his  footsteps 
along  the  passage,  down  the  winding  stair,  and  then 
along  the  passage  on  the  first  floor.  In  the  deep  and 
echoing  silence  of  the  old  house,  I  could  catch  the 
reverberations  of  his  heavy  tread,  until  he  reached  the 
hall  below,  and  then  I  heard  the  huge  house-door 
open  and  shut,  and,  a  few  moments  after,  the  gig 
rumbled  slowly  away. 

I  now  resolved  to  make  myself  as  comfortable  as 
circumstances  would  admit,  and  to  think  as  little  as 
possible  of  where  I  was,  and  for  what  purpose.  It 
would  be  too  much  to  say  that  my  opinions  on  the 
subject  of  apparitions  were  changed  ;  they  rested  on 
far  too  solid  a  substratum  of  argument  to  be  easily 
shaken.  Still,  the  positive  way  in  which  the  care- 
laker  had  spoken  of  seeing  the  club-footed  lady  made 
me  feel  odd,  the  more  from  the  very  easy  way  in 


A  Night  in  a  HaiDitcd  House.  6 1 

which  he  had  treated  the  matter,  as  if  there  were 
nothing  at  all  in  it  to  be  wondered  at.  I  could  under- 
stand a  fearful  man's  fancying  that  he  saw  ghosts,  but 
this  savage  was  not  a  bit  afraid — nay,  he  boasted  that 
the  ghost  was  afraid  of  him.  By  what  influence, 
then,  could  his  imagination — a  faculty  seldom  lively 
in  people  of  his  stamp — be  worked  up  to  the  pitch 
necessary  for  such  illusions  ?  Did  he,  perhaps,  drink? 
He  looked  not  very  unlike  it.  Yes  ;  no  doubt,  he 
drank  ;  that  explained  the  mystery ;  the  spirits  by 
which  he  was  haunted  were  not  without  but  within 
him.  A  superstitious  man — as  all  the  lower  orders, 
and  especially  the  Irish,  were — and  living  in  a  house 
reputed  to  be  haunted — what  could  be  more  natural 
than  that,  when  his  senses  were  disordered  by  liquor, 
the  confused  impressions  they  gave  him  should  assume 
the  shapes  with  which  the  popular  tradition  taught 
him  to  believe  himself  surrounded,  and  that  he  should 
be  ready  to  swear,  when  he  came  to  himself  again, 
that  he  had  seen  ghosts?  Besides,  habitual  indul- 
gence in  intoxicating  liquors  produced  a  disposition 
to  see  spectres  even  when  sober,  and  this  man  might, 
for  anything  I  know,  be  the  victim  of  a  chronic 
delirium  tremens.  That  would  solve  the  riddle  at 
once.  I  set  it  down,  therefore,  for  a  made-out  thing, 
that  Leary  was  a  drinker,  and  felt  considerable  com- 
forted in  my  mind  by  the  establishment  of  the  point. 

Still  more  comforted  did  I  feel  after  I  had  drawn  a 
chair  to  the  fire,  thrown  on  a  fresh  shovelful  of  coals, 
unpacked  my  basket,  drawn  the  cork  of  a  bottle  of 
Madeira,  poured  myself  out  a  glass,  tossed  it  off, 
poured  out  another,  left  that  standing  at  my  elbow, 


62  Weird  Tales, 

and  then,  snuffing  my  candles,  and  taking  the  last 
Maga  out  of  my  pocket,  threw  myself  back  in  my 
chair,  and  stretched  out  my  legs  for  a  luxurious  read. 
The  fire  was  good,  the  Madeira  better,  Maga  the  best 
of  all ;  and  I  basked,  and  sipped,  and  read,  till  really 
a  very  great  tranquillity  began  to  steal  over  my  spirit, 
my  pulse  beat  again  in  full  unison  with  the  pulse  of 
my  century,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  doing  a  very  en- 
lightened thing,  and  dealing  a  heavy  blow  and  a  great 
discouragement  to  all  superstitious  and  dark-age 
ideas,  by  being  where  I  was,  and  doing  what  I  did. 
It  is  true  that  the  silence  of  the  great  house  would  at 
times  drag  away  my  thoughts  from  the  page  before 
me,  and  lead  them  through  the  lonesome  rooms  and 
deserted  passages  which,  I  knew,  were  below,  and 
above,  and  around  me  ;  and  show  them  that  drearily- 
echoing  staircase  again,  and  that  hall,  with  its  age- 
blackened  panelling,  which  lay  between  me  and  the 
door  that  shut  out  all  human  life  but  my  own ;  and 
remind  them  of  the  dark  depth  that  seemed  to  insulate 
the  house,  and  of  that  grass-grown  bridge  which  it 
had  vainly  thrown  across,  to  the  world  that  repudiated 
it,  to  tempt  men  with  warm  blood  in  their  veins  into 
its  woe-stricken  solitude.  But  these  feelings  were 
momentary,  and  every  glass  of  Madeira  contributed 
to  widen  the  intervals  between  them — to  make  them 
fewer  and  farther  between.  In  short,  I  was  getting 
on  extremely  well  in  the  haunted  house. 

At  last,  what  with  the  fire,  and  what  with  the  wine, 
in  spite  of  Anthony  Poplar,  I  fell  asleep.  I  dreamt 
I  was  at  Bleaklawns,  and  giving  the  Fenwicks  a 
triumphant    account   of  my   enterprise,    and   that   a 


A  Nii;ht  i?i  a  Haunted  House.  63 

deputation  of  the  Wester  Hiltonians,  with  the  Mayor 
at  its  head,  was  come  out  to  bring  me  the  thanks  and 
freedom  of  their  town  in  a  blue  bandbox,  when  some- 
thing, I  don't  know  what,  awaked  me.  For  a 
moment  I  forgot  where  I  was,  but  in  a  moment  more 
I  was  fearfully  reminded.  Standing  not  three  paces 
from  me  was  a  lady,  whose  face  was  white  and  still 
as  death,  and  whose  eyes  gleamed  with  a  peculiar 
vague  brightness,  staring  at  me  in  silence,  and  with 
an  unchanging,  stony  expression,  that  made  my  own 
heart  feel  as  if  suddenly  turned  into  stone.  I  knew 
it  was  the  ghost.  At  first  I  tried  to  believe  that  I 
was  still  asleep,  but  could  not  accomplish  it.  Then 
I  said,  "  It's  the  Madeira  "  ;  but  I  could  not  believe 
that  rightly  either.  Then  I  looked  down  at  the 
lady's  feet — involuntarily,  I  must  say ;  for  I  felt,  the 
moment  I  had  done  it,  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  a 
great  breach  of  politeness.  However,  it  was  but  a 
glance,  and  it  was  sufficient ;  there  were  the  club- 
feet, sure  enough. 

How  I  felt,  words  cannot  tell.  Amazement  and 
desperate  fear  were,  I  think,  the  uppermost  sensa- 
tions— I  call  them  sensations,  for  I  had  them  in  my 
nerves,  and  in  my  blood,  as  well  as  in  my  mind.  I 
did  not  for  an  instant  indulge  the  hope  of  making  the 
ghost  think  I  was  not  afraid  of  her,  much  less  of 
making  her  afraid  of  me.  I  was  conscious  that  it  was 
out  of  the  question,  that  it  would  be  madness  to 
think  of  it;  and  Leary's  words,  "She'll  cow  you,  and 
then  where  will  you  be  ? — under  her  feet  I  "  recurred 
to  my  mind  with  a  terrible  distinctness.  I  looked  at 
her  feet  again. 


64  Weird  Tales. 

"That's  twice  you've  looked  at  them,"  said  the 
ghost ;  "  you'd  better  not  do  it  a  third  time." 

The  voice  was  as  unearthly  as  her  aspect — a  strange, 
shrieking  whisper,  which  sounded  as  if  she  drew  in 
her  breath  when  she  spoke,  instead  of  letting  it 
out. 

I  was  confounded :  I  tried  to  articulate  something 
about  not  meaning  any  offence,  but  my  voice  stuck 
in  my  throat. 

"  Of  course  you  are  aware,"  said  the  lady,  in  the 
same  tone,  and  after  a  short  pause,  "  that  I  am  the 
ghost  of  poor  Miss  Greenhorn." 

I  was  still  voiceless ;  but,  as  she  seemed  to  expect 
an  answer,  I  bowed. 

''There's  a  poor,  foolish  creature,"  proceeded  she, 
"in  Mr.  Greenhorn's  other  house,  who  fancies  that 
she  is  the  ghost.     But  she  is  not,  for  I  am." 

I  bowed  again. 

"  She's  out  of  her  wits,"  continued  the  apparition  : 
"  I  frightened  her  out  of  them." 

I  must  observe  that  the  ghost's  countenance  never 
changed,  let  the  subject  she  spoke  of  be  what  it 
might.  It  assumed  no  expression  of  passion — of 
pleasure  or  displeasure  ;  but  wore  the  same  vague, 
troubled  stare,  that  varied  as  little  as  if  the  features 
had  been  cast  in  marble. 

**  I  have  been  expecting  you  long,"  resumed  the 
spectre  after  another  pause.  "Indeed,  ever  since 
you  died  I  knew  that  sooner  or  later  you  would  find 
your  way  to  me.  You  are  come,  and  we  will  part  no 
more. " 

"  God   bless   my   soul ! "  murmured    I,   my  voice 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.  65 

beginning  to  return,  but  dying  away  again  before  I 
could  say  that  I  wasn't  dead. 

"  No — in  the  world  of  which  we  are  now  denizens," 
she  pursued,  "  there  are  no  partings  :  they  who  meet 
in  this  world  are  united  for  ever." 

She  paused  again,  and  added,  "  We  will  haunt 
this  house  together — we  shall  be  very  happy. " 

Making  a  great  effort,  I  now,  in  faltering  accents, 
assured  the  lady  that  she  was  under  a  mistake,  that  I 
was  not  a  ghost,  not  dead,  but  a  gentleman  residing 
in  London,  who,  being  on  a  visit  in  this  neighbour- 
hood, and  hearing  of  the  extraordinary  things  said 
in  connection  with  this  house,  had  solicited  and 
obtained  JMr.  Greenhorn's  permission  to  pass  a  night 
in  it,  for  the  satisfaction  of  a  philosophical  curiosity. 
I  added,  that  I  had  never  believed  in  ghosts  before, 
but  that  this  did  not  leave  me  a  word  to  say. 

*'  You  are  one  of  those  unhappy  spirits,  I  perceive,'" 
began  the  apparition,  when  I  had  done,  "  who  are  in 
the  dark  as  to  their  own  identity.  There  are  many 
such  among  the  departed.  They  who  have  been 
faithless  to  their  vows  while  living  are  often  punished 
by  not  knowing  who  they  are  when  dead.  This  is 
your  case.     You  have  existed  sixty  years  " — 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  interrupted  I;  "I'm  not 
forty  yet." 

"You  were  not  forty  when  you  died,"  said  she; 
"  but  you  have  been  sixty  years  dead,  and  these  sixty 
years  you  have  passed  in  a  dream,  believing  yourself 
alive,  believing  yourself  another  person — a  person 
who,  if  he  be  living  at  all,  might  be  your  grandson. 
It  is  time  to  undeceive  you.     You  are  he  who  broke 


66  Weird  Tales. 

this  faithful  heart — this  heart  which,  in  the  grave, 
still  beats  for  you.  You  are  he  who  won  this  heart, 
and  then  flung  it  from  him,  and  left  it  to  break  in 
loneliness.     And  for  what  ?     For  these  feet ! " 

She  put  one  forward  as  she  spoke,  and  I  felt  as  I 
looked  at  it,  that  the  faithless  gentleman  had  not  been 
so  very  much  to  blame. 

"  Feet,"  she  continued,  "  which  in  China  would 
be  considered  particularly  handsome  !  But  you  are 
come  back,  and  the  truant,  lost  and  blighted,  shall  to 
this  bosom  be  taken  once  more.  All  is  forgotten. 
Are  you,"  she  added,  "  a  good  rider?" 

"  Pretty  well,"  replied  I,  wondering  what  the  drift 
of  this  question  could  be — "nothing  very  extraordi- 
nary." 

'*I  am,"  said  she,  and  will  take  you  up  behind 
me.  We  are  but  twelve  miles  from  the  Scottish 
border,  and,  on  a  black  cat  which  I  have  below- 
stairs,  we  shall  be  there  in  three  quarters  of  an  hour." 

" God  bless  my  soul ! "  exclaimed  I ;  "I  never 
rode  on  a  black  cat  in  all  my  life !  " 

"If  you'd  rather  have  a  broomstick,  say  so," 
replied  the  ghost ;  "  there's  one  in  the  house." 

"I  declare,"  said  I,  "  I  don't  think  I  should  make 
it  out  much  better  on  the  one  than  the  other." 

"  Then  a  horse,"  said  the  ghost ;  "  there's  a  horse 
in  the  stable  which  belongs  to  the  live  man,  Leary. 
He  will  be  unquiet  under  ghosts,  but  we  shall  manage 
to  sit  him,  notwithstanding." 

*'  But  what  are  we  to  go  to  the  Scottish  border 
for  ?  "  asked  I,  feeling  a  horrid  anxiety  taking  posses- 
sion of  me. 


A  Night  in  a  Haunted  House.         67 

"To  be  married,"  answered  the  ghost, 

"  Oh,  dear  !  "  cried  I ;  "  I  must  really  say  " — and 
I  stopped. 

"What?"  said  the  ghost 

"I  am  not  the  person  you  take  me  for,"  said  I  ; 
**  I  am  not,  indeed ;  it's  quite  a  mistake.  I'm  not 
dead — I  never  was  dead  in  all  my  life  ;  and  I  don't 
at  all  feel  that  I  am  the  sort  of  man  likely  to  make  a 
ghost  happy." 

"Wait,"  said  the  ghost;  "I  perceive  you  are 
under  an  enchantment,  and  you  will  never  know  how 
you  are  till  it  is  dissolved.  Did  you  ever  read  the 
White  Cat?'' 

I  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Do  you  remember  how  the  princess  in  the  tale 
was  disenchanted  ?  " 

"  I  think  the  prince  cut  off  her  head." 

'*  He  did  ;  and  you  must  be  disenchanted  in  the 
same  way.  Just  give  me  that  knife  you  have  in  the 
basket  there — will  you  ?  " 

I  protested  strenuously  against  the  proposed  treat- 
ment. She  then  said  perhaps  a  finger  would  do,  or 
my  nose ;  but  I  expressed  an  unchangeable  deter- 
mination to  retain  both. 

"I  have  it,"  said  she;  "there's  a  live  woman  in 
the  house,  who  is  very  much  in  my  way.  You  shall 
cut  off  her  head,  and  we  will  fancy  it  yours ;  it  will 
come  to  the  same  thing." 

"  I  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing  for  the  world,"  cried 
I,  excessively  horrified  ;  "  wouldn't  the  black  cat's 
head  do?" 

"  Mention   such   a   thing   again,"  said   the  ghost. 


68  Weird  Tales. 

"and  see  what  will  happen  to  you.  No;  I  know 
another  means.  The  live  woman  is  a  witch  ;  she  has 
a  wand,  by  means  of  which  she  has  often  greatly  tor- 
mented and  controlled  me.  She  is  now  asleep ;  I 
will  go  fetch  her  wand,  and  disenchant  you  with  it." 

She  stumped  gravely  away,  leaving  me  a  prey  to 
the  most  indescribable  tumult  of  feelings.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  the  best  thing  I  could  do  would  be  to  start 
off  before  she  came  back  ;  and  putting  on  my  hat  and 
great  coat,  I  proceeded  to  put  my  design  into  execu- 
tion. Taking  a  candle  in  my  hand,  and  hastily 
swallowing  a  couple  of  glasses  of  Madeira,  I  stole 
out  of  the  room,  and  along  the  passage,  reached  the 
winding  stair,  hurried  along  the  passage  on  the  first 
floor,  and  was  near  the  great  staircase,  when  I  met 
the  ghost. 

It  was  my  own  fault ;  if  I  had  not  stopped  to  drink 
those  two  glasses  of  Madeira,  I  should  have  been  out 
of  the  house  before  she  knew  anything  about  it. 

She  held  her  right  behind  her  back,  and  without 
expressing  any  surprise  at  meeting  me,  bid  me  take 
off  my  big  coat.  Of  course  I  did  not  dare  to  disobey. 
She  then  directed  me  to  take  oflf  my  coat ;  this  I  also 
did.  Upon  this  she  showed  the  hand  which  she  had 
held  behind  her  back,  and  in  which  was  a  very  neat 
riding-whip. 

* '  Do  you  know  what  that  is  ?  "  said  the  apparition. 

"  It's  a  horsewhip,"  said  I,  feeling  very  queer. 

"No,"  replied  she,  "that's  a  wand;  and  I  must 
conjure  you  with  this  wand  until  you  are  disenchanted, 
and  know  who  you  are." 

Without  another  word,  she  rained  a  perfect  deluge 


A  Night  ill  a  Hawited  House.         69 

of  blows,  with  the  cursed  cutting-whip,  upon  my 
shoulders  and  arms.  I  made  a  run  for  the  stairs,  but 
she  was  before  me,  and  turned  me  back,  laying  on  all 
the  while  with  an  energy  that  I  should  never  have 
given  a  disembodied  spirit  credit  for.  From  time  to 
time  she  asked  if  I  was  disenchanted  yet,  and  if  I 
still  fancied  myself  to  be  alive  ;  but  I  made  no  answer, 
partly  because  I  could  do  nothing  but  shout  with  the 
pain,  and  partly  because  I  saw  plainly  that  there  is 
no  use  in  arguing  with  a  ghost,  especially  when  it 
happens,  besides,  to  be  the  ghost  of  a  woman. 

At  last,  making  a  fortunate  plunge,  I  got  at  the 
stairs,  and  ran  down.  It  was  a  happy  circumstance 
for  me  that  the  ghost  had  club-feet,  for  it  prevented 
her  running  quick  enough  to  come  up  with  me  before 
I  reached  the  door ;  and,  although  I  did  get  a  cut  or 
two  more  while  I  was  opening  it,  I  scarcely  felt  them 
for  the  joy  of  being  so  nearly  out  of  her  clutches  ;  nor 
did  it  in  the  least  diminish  the  satisfaction  with  which 
I  sprang  down  the  steps  that  bridged  the  yawning 
area,  to  reflect  that  I  had  paid  with  my  coat  and  hat 
for  the  curiosity  which  had  led  me  to  spend  a  night 
in  a  haunted  house. 

I  went  to  the  Greenhorn  Arms  for  that  night,  and 
set  off  next  morning  for  London,  having  left  a  note 
for  Harry  Fenwick  at  Hilton,  to  say  that  I  gave  up 
the  nineteenth  century. 

Yet  I  don't  know  how  it  is— I  sometimes  suspect 
those  little  rascally  boys  made  an  April  fool  of  me, 
and  brought  me  to  the  wrong  house. 


THE  BURIAL  OF  O'GRADY.* 

By  Samuel  Lover. 

The  workshops  of  Neck-or-Nothing  Hall  rang  with 
the  sounds  of  occupation  for  two  days  after  the  demise 
of  its  former  master.  The  hoarse  grating  sound  of 
the  saw,  the  whistling  of  the  plane,  and  the  stroke  of 
the  mallet,  denoted  the  presence  of  the  carpenter  ; 
and  the  sharper  clink  of  a  hammer,  told  of  old  Fogy 
the  family  ''milliner"  being  at  work; — but  it  was 
not  on  millinery  Fogy  was  now  employed,  though 
neither  was  it  legitimate  tinker's  work.  He  was 
scrolling  out  with  his  shears,  and  beating  into  form, 
a  plate  of  tin  to  serve  for  the  shield  on  O'Grady's 
coffin,  which  was  to  record  his  name,  age,  and  day  of 
departure  ;  and  this  was  the  second  plate  on  which 
the  old  man  worked,  for  one  was  already  finished  in 
the  corner.  Why  are  there  two  coffin-plates?  Enter 
the  carpenter's  shop,  and  you  will  see  the  answer  in 
two  coffins  the  carpenter  has  nearly  completed.  But 
why  two  coffins  for  one  death  ?  Listen,  reader,  to  a 
bit  of  Irish  strategy. 

It  has  been  stated  that  an  apprehension  was  enter- 
tained of  a  seizure  of  the  inanimate  body  of  O'Grady 
for  the  debts  it  had  contracted  in  life,  and  the  harpy 
nature  of  the  money-lender,  from  whom  this  move- 
ment was  dreaded,  warranted  the  fear.    Had  O'Grady 

*  From  Handy  A  ndy. 
70 


The  Burial  of  G  Grady.  7 1 

been  popular,  such  a  measure  on  the  part  of  a  cruel 
creditor  might  have  been  defied,  as  the  surrounding 
peasantry  would  have  risen  en  masse  to  prevent  it ; 
but  the  hostile  position  in  which  he  had  placed  him- 
self towards  the  people,  alienated  the  natural  affection 
they  are  born  with  for  their  chiefs,  and  any  partial 
defence  the  few  fierce  retainers  whom  individual 
interest  had  attached  to  him  could  have  made,  might 
have  been  insufficient  ;  therefore,  to  save  his  father's 
remains  from  the  pollution  (as  the  son  considered) 
of  a  bailiffs  touch,  Gustavus  determined  to  achieve 
by  stratagem  what  he  could  not  accomplish  by  force, 
and  had  two  coffins  constructed,  the  one  to  be  filled 
with  stones  and  straw,  and  sent  out  by  the  front 
entrance,  with  all  the  demonstration  of  a  real  funeral, 
and  be  given  up  to  the  attack  it  was  feared  would  be 
made  upon  it ;  while  the  other,  put  to  its  legitimate 
use,  should  be  placed  on  a  raft,  and  floated  down  the 
river  to  an  ancient  burial-ground,  which  lay  some 
miles  below  on  the  opposite  bank.  A  facility  for  this 
was  offered  by  a  branch  of  the  river  running  up  into 
the  domain,  as  it  will  be  remembered  ;  and  the  scene 
of  the  bearish  freaks  played  upon  Furlong  was  to 
witness  a  trick  of  a  more  serious  nature. 

While  all  these  preparations  were  going  forward, 
the  "  waking  "  was  kept  up  in  all  the  barbarous  style 
of  old  times, — eating  and  drinking  in  profusion  went 
on  in  the  house,  and  the  kitchen  of  the  hall  rang  with 
joviality.  The  feats  of  sports  and  arms  of  the  man 
who  had  passed  away  were  lauded,  and  his  com- 
parative achievements  with  those  of  his  progenitors 
gave  rise  to  many  a  stirring  anecdote  ;  and  bursts  of 


72  Weird  Tales. 

barbarous  exultation  or  more  barbarous  merriment 
rang  in  the  house  of  death.  There  was  no  lack  of 
whisky  to  fire  the  brains  of  these  revellers,  for  the 
standard  of  the  measurement  of  family  grandeur  was, 
too  often,  a  liquid  one  in  Ireland,  even  so  recently  as 
the  time  we  speak  of;  and  the  dozens  of  wine  wasted 
during  the  life  it  helped  to  shorten,  and  the  posthumous 
gallons  consumed  in  toasting  to  the  memory  of  the 
departed,  were  among  the  cherished  remembrances 
of  hereditary  honour.  "  There  were  two  hogsheads 
of  whisky  drank  at  my  father's  wake  ! "  would  have 
been  but  a  moderate  boast  of  a  true  Irish  squire,  fifty 
years  ago. 

And  now  the  last  night  of  the  wake  approached, 
and  the  retainers  thronged  to  honour  the  obsequies  of 
iheir  departed  chief  with  an  increased  enthusiasm, 
which  rose  in  proportion  as  the  whisky  got  low ;  and 
songs  in  praise  of  their  present  occupation  (that  is, 
getting  drunk)  rang  merrily  round,  and  the  sports  of 
the  field,  and  the  sorrows  and  joys  of  love  resounded  ; 
in  short,  the  ruling  passions  of  life  figured  in  rhyme 
and  music  in  honour  of  this  occasion  of  death  ;  and  as 
death  is  the  maker  of  widows,  a  very  animated  dis- 
cussion on  the  subject  of  widowhood  arose,  which 
afforded  great  scope  for  the  rustic  wits,  and  was 
crowned  by  the  song  of  "Widow  Machree  "  being 
universally  called  for  by  the  company ;  and  a  fine- 
looking  fellow,  with  a  merry  eye  and  large  white 
teeth,  which  he  amply  displayed  by  a  wide  mouth, 
poured  forth  in  cheery  tones  a  pretty  lively  air,  which 
suited  well  the  humorous  spirit  of  the  words  of  the 
sonsz. 


The  Burial  of  O' Grady.  73 

The  singer  was  honoured  with  a  round  of  applause, 
and  his  challenge  for  another  lay  was  readily  answered, 
and  mirth  and  music  filled  the  night,  and  ushered  in 
the  dawn  of  the  day  which  was  to  witness  the  melan- 
choly sight  of  the  master  of  an  ample  mansion  being 
made  the  tenant  of  the  "narrow  house." 

In  the  evening  of  that  day,  however,  the  wail  rose 
loud  and  long;  the  mirth  which  "the  waking"  permits 
had  passed  away,  and  the  ulican,  or  funeral  cry, 
told  that  the  lifeless  chief  was  being  borne  from  his 
hall.  That  wild  cry  was  heard  even  by  the  party 
who  were  waiting  to  make  their  horrid  seizure,  and 
for  that  party,  the  stone-laden  coffin  was  sent  with  a 
retinue  of  mourners  through  the  old  iron  gate  of  the 
principal  entrance,  while  the  mortal  remains  were 
borne  by  a  smaller  party  to  the  river  inlet,  and  placed 
on  the  raft.  Half  an  hour  had  witnessed  a  sham 
tight  on  the  part  of  O'Grady's  people  with  the 
bailiffs  and  their  followers,  who  made  the  seizure 
they  intended,  and  locked  up  their  prize  in  an  old 
barn  to  which  it  had  been  conveyed,  until  some 
engagement  on  the  part  of  the  heir  should  liberate  it ; 
while  the  aforesaid  heir,  as  soon  as  the  shadows  of 
evening  had  shrouded  the  river  in  obscurity,  conveyed 
the  remains,  which  the  myrmidons  of  the  law  fancied 
they  possessed,  to  its  quiet  and  lonely  resting-place. 
The  raft  was  taken  in  tow  by  a  boat  carrying  two  of 
the  boys,  and  pulled  by  four  lusty  retainers  of  the 
departed  chief;  while  Gustavus  himself  stood  on  the 
raft,  astride  above  the  coffin,  and  with  an  eel  spear, 
which  had  afforded  him  many  a  day's  sport,  performed 
the  melancholy  task  of  guiding  it.     It  was  a  strangely 


74  Weird  Tales. 

painful  yet  beautiful  sight,  to  behold  the  graceful 
figure  of  the  fine  boy  engaged  in  this  last  sad  duty  : 
with  dexterous  energy  he  plied  his  spear,  now  on  this 
side  and  now  on  that,  directing  the  course  of  the  raft, 
or  clearing  it  from  the  flaggers  which  interrupted  its 
passage  through  the  narrow  inlet.  This  duty  he  had 
to  attend  to  for  some  time,  even  after  leaving  the 
little  inlet,  for  the  river  was  much  overgrown  with 
flaggers  at  this  point,  and  the  increasing  darkness 
made  the  task  more  difficult. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  action  not  one  word  was 
spoken  ;  even  the  sturdy  boatmen  were  mute,  and  the 
fall  of  the  oar  in  the  rowlock,  the  plash  of  the  water, 
and  the  crushing  sound  of  the  yielding  rushes,  as  the 
"watery  bier"  made  its  way  through  them,  were  the 
only  sounds  which  broke  the  silence.  Still  Gustavus 
betrayed  no  emotion ;  but  by  the  time  they  reached 
the  open  stream,  and  that  his  personal  exertion  was 
no  longer  required,  a  change  came  over  him.  It  was 
night, — the  measured  beat  of  the  oars  sourded  like  a 
knell  to  him, — there  was  darkness  above  him,  and 
death  below,  and  he  sank  down  upon  the  coffin,  and, 
plunging  his  face  passionately  between  his  hands,  he 
wept  bitterly. 

Sad  were  the  thoughts  that  oppressed  the  brain  and 
wrung  the  heart  of  the  high-spirited  boy.  He  felt 
that  his  dead  father  was  escaping,  as  it  were,  to  the 
grave, — that  even  death  did  not  terminate  the  con- 
sequences of  an  ill-spent  life.  He  felt  like  a  thief  in 
the  night,  even  in  the  execution  of  his  own  stratagem, 
and  the  bitter  thoughts  of  that  sad  and  solemn  time 
wrought  a  potent  spell  over  after  years, — that  one 


The  Burial  of  O' Grady.  75 

hour  of  misery  and  disgrace  influenced  the  entire  of  a 
future  life. 

On  a  small  hill  overhanging  the  river  was  the  ruin 
of  an  ancient  early  temple  of  Christianity,  and  to  its 
surrounding  burial-ground  a  few  of  the  retainers  had 
been  despatched  to  prepare  a  grave.  They  were 
engaged  in  this  task  by  the  light  of  a  torch  made  of 
bog  pine,  when  the  flicker  of  the  flame  attracted  the 
eye  of  a  horseman  who  was  riding  slowly  along  the 
neighbouring  road.  Wondering  what  could  be  the 
cause  of  light  in  such  a  place,  he  leaped  the  adjoining 
fence,  and  rode  up  to  the  graveyard. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  said  to  the 
labourers.  They  paused  and  looked  up,  and  the 
flash  of  the  torch  fell  upon  the  features  of  Edward 
O'Connor. 

"  We're  finishing  your  work  !"  said  one  of  the  men, 
with  malicious  earnestness. 

"  My  work  ?"  repeated  Edward. 

"  Yis,"  returned  the  man,  more  sternly  than  before, 
— "  this  is  the  grave  of  O'Grady." 

The  words  went  like  an  ice-bolt  through  Edward's 
heart ;  and  even  by  the  torchlight  the  tormentor  could 
see  his  victim  grew  livid. 

The  fellow  who  wounded  so  deeply  one  so  generally 
beloved  as  Edward  O'Connor  was  a  thorough  ruffian. 
His  answer  to  Edward's  query  sprang  not  from  love 
of  O'Grady,  nor  abhorrence  of  taking  human  life,  but 
from  the  opportunity  of  retort  which  the  occasion 
offered  upon  one  who  had  once  checked  him  in  an  act 
of  brutality. 

Yet   Edward   O'Connor  could  not  reply, — it  was  a 


76  Weird  Tales. 

home-thurst.  The  death  of  O'Grady  had  weighed 
heavily  upon  him  ;  for  though  O'Grady's  wound  had 
been  given  in  honourable  combat,  provoked  by  his 
own  fury,  and  not  producing  immediate  death ; 
though  that  death  had  supervened  upon  the  subse- 
quent intractability  of  the  patient ;  yet  the  fact  that 
O'Grady  had  never  been  "up  and  doing"  since  the 
duel,  tended  to  give  the  impression  that  his  wound 
was  the  remote  if  not  the  immediate  cause  of  his 
death,  and  this  circumstance  weighed  heavily  on 
Edward's  spirits.  His  friends  told  him  he  felt  over- 
keenly  on  the  subject,  and  that  no  one  but  himself 
could  entertain  a  question  of  his  total  innocence  of 
O'Grady's  death ;  but  when  from  the  lips  of  a  common 
peasant  he  got  the  answer  he  did,  and  that  beside  the 
grave  of  his  adversary,  it  will  not  be  wondered  at  that 
he  reeled  in  his  saddle.  A  cold  shivering  sickness 
came  over  him,  and  to  avoid  falling  he  alighted,  and 
leaned  for  support  against  his  horse,  which  stooped, 
when  freed  from  the  restraint  of  the  rein,  to  browse 
on  the  rank  verdure  ;  and  for  the  moment  Edward 
envied  the  unconsciousness  of  the  animal  against 
which  he  leaned.  He  pressed  his  forehead  against 
the  saddle,  and  from  the  depth  of  a  bleeding  heart 
came  up  the  agonized  exclamation  of  "  O  God  !  O 
(iod!" 

A  gentle  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder  as  he 
spoke,  and  turning  round,  he  beheld  Mr.  Ber- 
mingham. 

"  What  brings  you  here  ?  "  said  the  clergyman. 

"Accident,"  answered  Edward.  **  But  why  should 
I  say  accident  ?     It  is  by  a  higher  authority  and   a 


Tiic  Burial  of  O' Grady.  7  7 

better — it  is  the  will  of  Heaven.  It  is  meant  as  a 
bitter  lesson  to  human  pride  :  we  make  for  oui- 
selves  laws  of  honour,  and  forget  the  laws  of  God  ! " 

"Be  calm,  my  young  friend,"  said  the  worthy 
pastor.  "  I  cannot  wonder  you  feel  deeply, — but 
command  yourself."  He  pressed  Edward's  hand  as 
he  spoke,  and  left  him,  for  he  knew  that  an  agony  so 
keen  is  not  benefited  by  companionship. 

Mr.  Bermingham  was  there  by  appointment  to 
perform  the  burial  service,  and  he  had  not  left 
Edward's  side  many  minutes  when  a  long,  wild 
whistle  from  the  waters  announced  the  arrival  of  the 
boat  and  raft,  and  the  retainers  ran  down  to  the  river, 
leaving  the  pine-torch  stuck  in  the  upturned  earth, 
waving  its  warm  blaze  over  the  cold  grave.  During 
the  interval  which  ensued  between  the  departure  of 
the  men  and  their  reappearance,  bearing  the  body  to 
its  last  resting  place,  Mr.  Bermingham  spoke  with 
Edward  O'Connor,  and  soothed  him  into  a  more 
tranquil  bearing.  When  the  coffin  came  within 
view,  he  advanced  to  meet  it,  and  began  the  sublime 
burial  -  service,  which  he  repeated  most  impres- 
sively. 

When  it  was  over,  the  men  commenced  filling  up 
the  grave. 

As  the  clods  fell  heavily  upon  the  coffin,  they  smote 
the  hearts  of  the  dead  man's  children  ;  yet  the  boys 
stood  upon  the  verge  of  the  grave  as  long  as  a  vestige 
of  the  tenement  of  their  lost  father  could  be  seen  ;  but 
as  soon  as  the  coffin  was  hidden,  they  withdrew  from 
the  brink,  and  the  younger  boys,  each  taking  hold  of 
the  hand  of  the  eldest,  seemed  to  imply  the  need  of 


78  Weird  Tales. 

mutual  dependence, — as  if  death  had  drawn  closer 
the  bond  of  brotherhood. 

There  was  no  sincerer  mourner  at  that  place  than 
Edward  O'Connor,  who  stood  aloof,  in  respect  for  the 
feelings  of  the  children  of  the  departed  man,  till  the 
grave  was  quite  filled  up,  and  all  were  about  to  leave 
the  spot ;  but  then  his  feelings  overmastered  him,  and, 
impelled  by  a  torrent  of  contending  emotions,  he 
rushed  forward,  and  throwing  himself  on  his  knees 
before  Gustavus,  he  held  up  his  hands  imploringly, 
and  sobbed  forth,  "  Forgive  me  !  " 

The  astonished  boy  drew  back. 

"  Oh,  forgive  me  !  "  repeated  Edward, — "  I  could 
not  help  it — it  was  forced  on  me — it  was  " — 

As  he  struggled  for  utterance,  even  the  rough 
retainers  were  touched,  and  one  of  them  exclaimed, 
"  Oh,  Mr.  O'Connor,  it  was  a  fair  fight  !  " 

"There!"  exclaimed  Edward, — "you  hear  it! — 
Oh,  give  me  your  hand  in  forgiveness  I  " 

"  I  forgive  you,"  said  the  boy,  "  but  do  not  ask  me 
to  give  you  my  hand  to-night." 

"You  are  right,"  said  Edward,  springing  to  his 
feet, — "you  are  right, — you  are  a  noble  fellow;  and 
now,  remember,  Gustavus,  by  the  side  of  your  father's 
grave,  I  pledge  you  my  soul,  that  through  life  and  till 
death,  in  all  extremity,  Edward  O'Connor  is  your 
sworn  and  trusty  friend." 

"While  the  foregoing  scene  of  sadness  took  place  in 
the  lone  churchyard,  unholy  watch  was  kept  over  the 
second  coffin  by  the  myrmidons  of  the  law.  The 
usurer  who  made  the  seizure  had  brought  down  from 
Dublin   three   of  the   most   determined  bailiffs  from 


The  Burial  of  O' Grady.  79 

amongst  the  tribe,  and  to  their  care  was  committed 
the  keeping  of  the  supposed  body  in  the  old  barn. 
Associated  with  these  worthies  were  a  couple  of  ill- 
conditioned  country  blackguards,  who,  for  the  sake 
of  a  bottle  of  whisky,  would  keep  company  with  Old 
Nick  himself,  and  who  expected,  moreover,  to  hear 
"a  power  o'  new^s"  from  the  "gentlemen"  from 
Dublin,  who  in  their  turn  did  not  object  to  have  their 
guard  strengthened,  as  their  notions  of  a  rescue  in  the 
country  parts  of  Ireland  were  anything  but  agreeable. 
The  night  was  cold,  so,  clearing  away  the  sheaves  of 
corn,  with  which  the  barn  was  stored,  from  one  of  its 
extremities,  they  made  a  turf  fire,  and  stretched 
themselves  on  a  good  shake-down  of  straw  before  the 
cheering  blaze,  and  circulated  among  them  a  bottle  of 
whisky,  of  which  they  had  good  store.  A  tap  at  the 
door  announced  a  new  comer ;  but  the  Dublin  bailiffs, 
fearing  a  surprise,  hesitated  to  open  to  the  knock, 
until  their  country  allies  assured  them  it  was  a  friend, 
whose  voice  they  recognised.  The  door  was  opened, 
and  in  walked  Larry  Hogan,  to  pick  up  his  share  of 
what  was  going,  whatever  it  might  be. 

A  repast  was  now  made,  more  resembling  a  feast 
of  savages  round  their  war-fire,  than  any  civilised 
meal ;  slices  of  bacon  broiled  in  the  fire,  and  eggs 
roasted  in  the  turf-ashes.  The  viands  were  not 
objectionable  ;  but  the  cooking  ! — oh  ! — there  was 
neither  gridiron  nor  frying-pan,  fork  nor  spoon  ;  a 
couple  of  clasp  -  knives  served  the  whole  party. 
Nevertheless,  they  satisfied  their  hunger,  and  then 
sent  the  bottle  on  its  exhilarating  round.  Soon  after 
that  many  a  story  of  burglar)',  robbery,    swindling, 


8o  Weird  Tales. 

petty  larceny,  and  every  conceivable  crime  was  related 
for  the  amusement  of  the  circle ;  and  the  plots  and 
counter-plots  of  thieves  and  thief-takers  raised  the 
wonder  of  the  peasants. 

Larry  Hogan  was  especially  delighted  :  more  par- 
ticularly when  some  trick  of  either  villainy  or  cunning 
came  out. 

From  robbings  they  went  on  to  tell  of  murders,  and 
at  last  that  uncomfortable  sensation  which  people 
experience  after  a  feast  of  horrors  began  to  pervade 
the  party ;  and  whenever  they  looked  round,  there 
was  the  coffin  in  the  background. 

"  Throw  some  turf  on  the  fire,"  said  Goggins,  **  'tis 
burning  low,  and  change  the  subject ;  the  tragic  muse 
has  reigned  sufficiently  long — enough  of  the  dagger 
and  the  bowl — sink  the  socks,  and  put  on  the  buck- 
skins.    Leather  away,  Jim — sing  us  a  song." 

Jim  cleared  his  throat  and  sang  "The  Quaker's 
Meeting,"  which  tells  how  Jimmy  Barlow,  a  high- 
wayman dressed  in  girl's  clothes,  was  outwitted  by  a 
Quaker, 

' '  Well,  it's  a  quare  thing  you  should  be  singin'  a 
song  here,"  said  Larry  Hogan,  '*  about  Jim  Barlow, 
and  it's  not  over  half  a  mile  out  o'  this  very  place  he 
was  hanged." 

*'  Indeed  ! "  exclaimed  all  the  men  at  once,  looking 
with  great  interest  at  Larry. 

"  It's  truth  I'm  telling  you.  He  made  a  very 
bowld  robbery  up  by  the  long  hill  there,  on  two 
gentlemin,  for  he  was  mighty  stout." 

"  Pluck  to  the  backbone,"  said  Goggins, 

'*Well,  he  tuk  the  purses  aff  both  o'  themj  and 


The  Burial  of  O'  Grady.  8 1 

just  as  he  was  goin'  on  afther  doin'  that  same,  what 
should  appear  on  the  road  before  him,  but  two  other 
thravcUcrs  coming  up  forninst  him.  With  that  the 
men  that  was  robbed  cried  out  '  Stop  thief  ! '  and  so 
Jim,  seein'  himself  hemmed  in  betune  the  four  o' 
them,  faced  his  horse  to  the  ditch,  and  took  across 
the  counthry ;  but  the  thravellers  was  well  mounted 
as  well  as  himself,  and  powdhered  afther  him  like 
mad.  Well,  it  was  equal  to  a  steeplechase  a'most ; 
and  Jim,  seein'  he  could  not  shake  them  off,  thought 
the  best  thing  he  could  do  was  to  cut  out  some 
troublesome  work  for  them  ;  so  he  led  off  where  he 
knew  there  was  the  devil's  own  leap  to  take,  and  he 
intended  to  'pound*  them  there,  and  be  off  in  the 
mane  time ;  but  as  ill  luck  would  have  it,  his  own 
horse,  that  was  as  bowld  as  himself,  and  would  jump 
at  the  moon  if  he  was  faced  to  it,  missed  his  foot  in 
takin'  off,  and  fell  short  o'  the  leap  and  slipped  his 
shouldher,  and  Jim  himself  had  a  bad  fall  of  it  too, 
and,  av  coorse,  it  was  all  over  wid  him — and  up 
came  the  four  gintlemen.  Well,  Jim  had  his  pistols 
yet,  and  he  pulled  them  out,  and  swore  he'd  shoot 
the  first  man  that  attempted  to  take  him  ;  but  the 
gintlemen  had  pistols  as  well  as  he,  and  were  so  hot 
on  the  chase  they  determined  to  have  him,  and  closed 
on  him.  Jim  fired  and  killed  one  o'  them  ;  but  he 
got  a  ball  in  the  shouldher  himself  from  another,  and 
he  was  taken.  Jim  sthruv  to  shoot  himself  with  his 
second  pistol,  but  it  missed  fire.  '  The  curse  o'  the 
road  is  on  me,'  said  Jim  ;   '  my  pistol  missed  fire,  and 

*  Impound. 


82  Weird  Tales. 

my  horse  slipped  his  shouldher,  and  now  I'll  be 
scragged,'  says  he,  '  but  it's  not  for  nothing — I've 
killed  one  o'  ye,'  says  he." 

"  He  was  all  pluck,"  said  Goggins. 

"Desperate  bowld,"  said  Larry.  **Well,  he  was 
thried  and  condimned,  av  coorse ;  and  was  hanged, 
as  I  tell  you,  half  a  mile  out  o'  this  very  place  where 
we  are  sittin' ;  and  his  appearance  walks,  they  say, 
ever  since." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  "  said  Goggins. 

"  Faith,  it's  thrue  !  "  answered  Larr}% 

"You  never  saw  it,"  said  Goggins. 

"The  Lord  forbid!"  returned  Larry;  "but  it's 
thrue,  for  all  that.  For  you  see  the  big  house  near 
this  barn,  that  is  all  in  ruin,  was  desarted  because 
Jim's  ghost  used  to  walk." 

"That  was  foolish,"  said  Goggins;  "stir  up  the 
fire,  Jim,  and  hand  me  the  whisky." 

"Oh,  if  it  was  only  walkin',  they  might  have  got 
over  that ;  but  at  last,  one  night,  as  the  story  goes, 
when  there  was  a  thremendious  storm  o'  wind  and 
rain  " — 

"Whisht!"  said  one  of  the  peasants,  "what's 
that?" 

As  they  listened  they  heard  the  beating  of  heavy 
rain  against  the  door,  and  the  wind  howled  through 
its  chinks. 

"Well,"  said  Goggins,  "what  are  you  stopping 
for?" 

"Oh,  I'm  not  stoppin',"  said  Larry;  "I  was 
ayin'  that  it  was  a  bad  wild  night,  and  Jimmy 
Barlow's  appearance  came  into  the  house,  and  asked 


The  Burial  of  a  Grady.  83 

them  for  a  glass  o'  sper'ts,  and  that  he'd  be  obleeged 
to  ihem  if  they'd  help  him  with  his  horse  that  slipped 
his  shouldher  ;  and,  faith,  afther  that  they'd  stay  in 
the  place  no  longer  ;  and,  signs  on  it,  the  house  is 
gone  to  rack  and  ruin,  and  it's  only  this  barn  that  is 
kept  up  at  all,  because  it's  convaynient  for  owld 
Skinflint  on  the  farm." 

"  That's  all  nonsense,"  said  Goggins,  who  wished, 
nevertheless,  that  he  had  not  heard  the  "nonsense." 
*'  Come,  sing  another  song,  Jim." 

Jim  said  he  did  not  remember  one. 

"  Then  you  sing,  Ralph." 

Ralph  said  every  one  knew  he  never  did  more 
than  join  a  chorus. 

"Then  join  me  in  a  chorus,"  said  Goggins,  "for 
I'll  sing,  if  Jim's  afraid." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  said  Jim. 

"  Then  why  won't  you  sing  ?  " 

"  Because  I  don't  like." 

"Ah  !"  exclaimed  Goggins. 

"Well,  maybe  you're  afraid  yourself,"  said  Jim, 
"if  you  told  truth." 

"Just  to  show  you  how  little  I'm  afraid,"  said 
Goggins,  with  a  swaggering  air,  "I'll  sing  another 
song  about  Jimmy  Barlow." 

"You'd  better  not,"  said  Larry  Ilogan  ;  "  let  him 
rest  in  pace  !  " 

"  Fudge  !  "  said  Goggins.  "  Will  you  join  chorus, 
Jim?" 

"  I  will,"  said  Jim,  fiercely. 

"We'll  all  join,"  said  the  men  (except  Larry), 
who  felt  it  would  be  a  sort  of  relief  to  bully  away 


84  Weird  Tales. 

the  supernatural  terror  which  hung  round  their  hearts 
after  the  ghost  story,  by  the  sound  of  their  own 
voices. 

"Then  here  goes!"  said  Goggins,  who  started 
another  long  ballad  about  Jimmy  Barlow,  in  the 
opening  of  which  all  joined.     It  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  My  name  it  is  Jimmy  Barlow, 
I  was  born  in  the  town  of  Carlow, 
And  here  I  lie  in  Maryborough  jail, 
All  for  the  robbing  of  the  Wicklow  mail. 
Fol  de  rol  de  riddle-i-do  ! " 

As  it  would  be  tiresome  to  follow  this  ballad 
through  all  its  length,  breadth,  and  thickness,  we 
shall  leave  the  singers  engaged  in  their  chorus,  while 
we  call  the  reader's  attention  to  a  more  interesting 
person  than  Mister  Goggins  or  Jimmy  Barlow. 

When  Edward  O'Connor  had  hurried  from  the 
burial-place,  he  threw  himself  into  his  saddle,  and 
urged  his  horse  to  speed,  anxious  to  fly  the  spot 
where  his  feelings  had  been  so  harrowed  ;  and  as  he 
swept  along  through  the  cold  night  wind  which  began 
^to  rise  in  gusty  fits,  and  howled  past  him,  there  was, 
in  the  violence  of  his  rapid  motion,  something  con- 
genial to  the  fierce  career  of  painful  thoughts  which 
chased  each  other  through  his  heated  brain.  He 
continued  to  travel  at  this  rapid  pace,  so  absorbed  in 
bitter  reflection  as  to  be  quite  insensible  to  external 
impressions,  and  he  knew  not  how  far  nor  how  fast 
he  was  going,  though  the  heavy  breathing  of  his 
horse  at  any  other  time  would  have  been  signal 
sufficient  to  draw  the  rein  ;  but  still  he  pressed 
onward,    and    still    the    storm    increased,    and   each 


The  Burial  of  O  Grady.  85 

acclivity  was  topped  but  to  sweep  down  the  succeed- 
ing slope  at  the  same  desperate  pace.  Hitherto 
the  road  over  which  he  pursued  his  fleet  career  lay 
through  an  open  country,  and  though  the  shades  of 
a  stormy  night  hung  above  it,  the  horse  could  make 
his  way  in  safety  through  the  gloom  ;  but  now  they 
approached  an  old  road  which  skirted  an  ancient 
domain,  whose  venerable  trees  threw  their  arms 
across  the  old  causeway,  and  added  their  shadows 
to  the  darkness  of  the  night. 

Many  and  many  a  time  had  Edward  ridden  in  the 
soft  summer  under  the  green  shade  of  these  very 
trees,  in  company  with  Fanny  Dawson,  his  guiltless 
heart  full  of  hope  and  love  ; — perhaps  it  was  this  very 
thought  crossing  his  mind  at  the  moment  which  made 
his  present  circumstances  the  more  oppressive.  He 
was  guiltless  no  longer, — he  rode  not  in  happiness 
with  the  woman  he  adored  under  the  soft  shade  of 
summer  trees,  but  heard  the  wintiy  wind  howl  | 
through  their  leafless  boughs  as  he  hurried  in  mad- 
dened speed  beneath  them,  and  heard  in  the  dismal 
sound  but  an  echo  of  the  voice  of  remorse  which  was 
ringing  through  his  heart.  The  darkness  was  intense 
from  the  canopy  of  old  oaks  which  overhung  the 
road,  but  still  the  horse  was  urged  through  the  dark 
ravine  at  speed,  though  one  might  not  see  an  arm's 
length  before  them.  Fearlessly  it  was  performed, 
though  ever  and  anon,  as  the  trees  swung  about  their 
heavy  branches  in  the  storm,  smaller  portions  of  the 
boughs  were  snapped  off  and  flung  in  the  faces  of  the 
horse  and  the  rider,  who  still  spurred  and  plashed 
his  headlong  way  through  the  heavy  road  beneath. 


86  Weird  Tales. 

Emerging  at  length  from  the  deep  and  overshadowed 
valley,  a  steep  hill  raised  its  crest  in  advance,  but 
still  up  the  stony  acclivity  the  feet  of  the  mettled 
steed  rattled  rapidly,  and  flashed  fire  from  the  flinty 
path.  As  they  approached  the  top  of  the  hill  the 
force  of  the  storm  became  more  apparent,  and  on 
reaching  its  crest,  the  fierce  pelting  of  the  mingled 
rain  and  hail  made  the  horse  impatient  of  the  storm 
of  which  his  rider  was  heedless, — almost  unconscious. 
The  spent  animal  with  short  snortings  betokened  his 
labour,  and  shook  his  head  passionately  as  the  fierce 
hail  shower  struck  him  in  the  eyes  and  nostrils. 
Still,  however,  was  he  urged  downward,  but  he  was 
no  longer  safe.  Quite  blown,  and  pressed  over  a 
rough  descent,  the  generous  creature,  that  would  die 
rather  than  refuse,  made  a  false  step,  and  came 
heavily  to  the  ground.  Edward  was  stunned  by  the 
fall,  though  not  seriously  hurt ;  and,  after  the  lapse 
of  a  few  seconds,  recovered  his  feet,  but  found  the 
horse  still  prostrate.  Taking  the  animal  by  the  head, 
he  assisted  him  to  rise,  which  he  was  not  enabled  to 
do  till  after  several  efforts ;  and  when  he  regained 
his  legs,  it  was  manifest  he  was  seriously  lamed  ;  and 
as  he  limped  along  with  difficulty  beside  his  master, 
who  led  him  gently,  it  became  evident  that  it  was 
beyond  the  animal's  power  to  reach  his  own  stable 
that  night.  Edward  for  the  first  time  was  now 
aware  of  how  much  he  had  punished  his  horse ;  he 
felt  ashamed  of  using  the  noble  brute  with  such 
severity,  and  became  conscious  that  he  had  been 
acting  under  something  little  short  of  frenzy.  The 
consciousness  at  once  tended  to  restore  him  somewhat 


The  Burial  of  O  Grady.  8  7 

to  himself,  and  he  began  to  look  around  on  every 
side  in  search  of  some  house  where  he  could  find  rest 
and  shelter  for  his  disabled  horse.  As  he  proceeded 
thus,  the  care  necessarily  bestowed  on  his  dumb 
companion  partially  called  off  his  thoughts  from  the 
painful  theme  with  which  they  had  been  exclusively 
occupied,  and  the  effect  was  most  beneficial.  The 
first  violent  burst  of  feeling  was  past,  and  a  calmer 
train  of  thought  succeeded  ;  he  for  the  first  time 
remembered  the  boy  had  forgiven  him, — and  that 
was  a  great  consolation  to  him  :  he  recalled,  too,  his 
own  words,  pledging  to  Gustavus  his  friendship,  and 
in  this  pleasing  hope  of  the  future  he  saw  much  to 
redeem  what  he  regretted  of  the  past.  Still,  how- 
ever, the  wild  flare  of  the  pine-torch  over  the  lone 
grave  of  his  adversary,  and  the  horrid  answer  of  the 
grave-digger,  that  he  was  but  "  finishing  his  work," 
would  recur  to  his  memory,  and  awake  an  internal 
groan. 

From  this  painful  reminiscence  he  sought  to  escape, 
by  looking  forward  to  all  he  would  do  for  Gustavus, 
and  had  become  much  calmer,  when  the  glimmer  of 
a  light  not  far  ahead  attracted  him,  and  he  soon  was 
enabled  to  perceive  it  proceeded  from  some  buildings 
that  lay  on  his  right,  not  far  from  the  road.  He 
turned  up  the  rough  path  which  fovmed  the  approach, 
and  the  light  escaped  through  the  chinks  of  a  large 
door,  which  indicated  the  place  to  be  a  coach-house, 
or  some  such  office,  belonging  to  the  general  pile, 
which  seemed  in  a  ruinous  contlition. 

As  he  approached,  Edward  heard  rude  sounds  of 
merriment,    amongst    which    the    joining    of    many 


8S  l^Veird  Tales. 

voices,    in   a    "  ree-raw "    chorus,    indicated    that    a 
carouse  was  going  forward  within. 

On  reaching  the  door,  he  could  perceive  through  a 
wide  chink  a  group  of  men  sitting  round  a  turf  fire, 
which  was  piled  at  the  far  end  of  the  building,  which 
had  no  fire-place,  and  the  smoke,  curling  upwards  to 
the  roof,  wreathed  the  rafters  in  smoke  ;  beneath  this 
vapoury  canopy  the  party  sat  drinking  and  singing, 
and  Edward,  ere  he  knocked  for  admittance,  listened 
to  the  following  strange  refrain  : — 

"  For  my  name  it  is  Jimmy  Barlow, 
I  was  born  in  the  town  of  Carlow, 
And  here  I  lie  in  Maryborough  jail, 
All  for  the  robbing  of  the  Wicklow  mail. 

Fol  de  rol  de  riddle-iddle-ido  ! " 

Then  the  principal  singer  took  up  the  song,  which 
seemed  to  be  one  of  robbery,  blood,  and  murder,  for 
it  ran  thus  : — 

"  Then  he  cocked  his  pistol  gaily, 
And  stood  before  him  bravely, 
Smoke  and  fire  is  my  desire, 
So  blaze  away,  my  game-cock  squire. 

For  my  name  it  is  Jimmy  Barlow 
I  was  born,  etc." 

Edward  O'Connor  knocked  at  the  door  loudly  ;  the 
words  he  had  just  heard  about  "  pistols,"  "  blazing 
away,"  and,  last  of  all,  "  squire"  fell  gratingly  on  his 
ear  at  that  moment,  and  seemed  strangely  to  connect 
themselves  with  the  previous  adventures  of  the  night 
and  his  own  sad  thoughts,  and  he  beat  against  the 
door  with  violence. 

The  chorus  ceased. 

Edward  repeated  his  knocking. 


The  Burial  of  O' Grady,  89 

Still  there  was  no  answer ;  but  he  heard  low  and 
hurried  muttering  inside.  Determined,  however,  to 
gain  admittance,  Edward  laid  hold  of  an  iron  hasp 
outside  the  door,  which  enabled  him  to  shake  the  gate 
with  violence,  that  there  might  be  no  excuse  on  the 
part  of  the  inmates  that  they  did  not  hear ;  but  in 
thus  making  the  old  door  rattle  in  its  frame,  it  sud- 
denly yielded  to  his  touch,  and  creaked  open  on  its 
rusty  hinges  ;  for  when  Larry  Hogan  had  entered  it 
had  been  forgotten  to  be  barred. 

As  Edward  stood  in  the  open  doorway,  the  tirst 
object  w^hich  met  his  eye  was  the  coffin, — and  it  is 
impossible  to  say  how  much  at  that  moment  the  sight 
shocked  him  ;  he  shuddered  involuntarily,  yet  could 
not  withdraw  his  eyes  from  the  revolting  object ;  and 
the  pallor  with  which  his  previous  mental  anxiety  had 
invested  his  cheek  increased  as  he  looked  on  this  last 
tenement  of  mortality.  "Am  I  to  see  nothing  but 
the  evidences  of  death's  doings  this  night  ?  "  was  the 
mental  question  which  shot  through  Edward's  over- 
wrought brain,  and  he  grew  livid  at  the  thought. 
He  looked  more  like  one  raised  from  the  grave  than 
a  living  being,  and  a  wild  glare  in  his  eyes  rendered 
his  appearance  still  more  unearthly.  He  felt  thai 
shame  which  men  always  experience  in  allowing  their 
feelings  to  overcome  them ;  and  by  a  great  effort  he 
mastered  his  emotion  and  spoke,  but  the  voice  par- 
took of  the  strong  nervous  excitement  under  which  he 
laboured,  and  was  hollow  and  broken,  and  seemetl 
more  like  that  which  one  might  fancy  to  proceed  from 
the  jaws  of  a  sepulchre,  than  one  of  flesh  and  blood. 
Beaten  by  the  storm,  too,  his  hair  hung  in  wet  flakes 


go  Weird  Tales. 

over  his  face,  and  added  to  his  wild  appearance,  so 
that  the  men  all  jumped  to  their  feet  the  first  glimpse 
they  caught  of  him,  and  huddled  themselves  together 
in  the  farthest  corner  of  the  building,  from  whence 
they  eyed  him  with  evident  alarm. 

Edward  thought  some  whisky  might  check  the 
feeling  of  faintness  which  overcame  him  ;  and  though 
he  deemed  it  probable  he  had  broken  in  upon  the 
nocturnal  revel  of  desperate  and  lawless  men,  he 
nevertheless  asked  them  to  give  him  some ;  but 
instead  of  displaying  that  alacrity  so  universal  in 
Ireland,  of  sharing  the  "  creature  "  with  a  new-comer, 
the  men  only  pointed  to  the  bottle  which  stood  beside 
the  fire,  and  drew  closer  together. 

Edward's  desire  for  the  stimulant  was  so  great,  that 
he  scarcely  noticed  the  singular  want  of  courtesy  on 
the  part  of  the  men ;  and  seizing  the  bottle  (for  there 
was  no  glass),  he  put  it  to  his  lips,  and  quaffed  a 
hearty  dram  of  the  spirit  before  he  spoke. 

"  I  must  ask  for  shelter  and  assistance  here,"  said 
Edward.  "  My  horse,  I  fear,  has  slipped  his 
shoulder  " — 

Before  he  could  utter  another  word,  a  simultaneous 
roar  of  terror  bust  from  the  group — they  fancied  the 
ghost  of  Jimmy  Barlow  was  before  them,  and  made  a 
simultaneous  rush  from  the  barn  ;  and  as  they  saw 
the  horse  at  the  door,  another  yell  escaped  them,  as 
they  fled  with  increased  speed  and  terror.  Edward 
stood  in  amazement  as  the  men  rushed  from  his 
presence.  He  followed  to  the  gate  to  recall  them ; 
they  were  gone  ;  he  could  only  hear  their  yells  in  the 
distance.     The  circumstance  seemed  quite  unaccount- 


The  Burial  of  G  Grady.  9 1 

able  ;  and  as  he  stood  lost  in  vain  surmises  as  to  the 
cause  of  the  strange  occurrence,  a  low  neigh  of  recog- 
nition from  the  horse  reminded  him  of  the  animal's 
wants,  and  he  led  him  into  the  barn,  where,  from  the 
plenty  of  straw  which  lay  around,  he  shook  down  a 
litter  where  the  maimed  animal  might  rest. 

He  then  paced  up  and  down  the  barn,  lost  in 
wonder  at  the  conduct  of  those  whom  he  found  there, 
and  whom  his  presence  had  so  suddenly  expelled  ; 
and  ever  as  he  walked  towards  the  fire,  the  coffin 
caught  his  eye.  As  a  fitful  blaze  occasionally  arose, 
it  flashed  upon  the  plate,  which  brightly  reflected  the 
flame,  and  Edward  was  irresistably  drawn,  despite 
his  original  impression  of  horror  at  the  object,  to 
approach  and  read  the  inscription.  The  shield  bore 
the  name  of  "  O'Grady,"  and  Edward  recoiled  from 
the  coffin  with  a  shudder,  and  inwardly  asked,  was 
he  in  his  waking  senses?  He  had  but  an  hour  ago 
seen  his  adversary  laid  in  his  grave,  yet  here  was  his 
coffin  again  before  him,  as  if  to  harrow  up  his  soul 
anew.  Was  it  real,  or  a  mockery  ?  Was  he  the 
sport  of  a  dream,  or  was  there  some  dreadful  curse 
fallen  upon  him,  that  he  should  be  for  ever  haunted 
by  the  victim  of  his  arm,  and  the  call  of  vengeance 
fur  blood  be  ever  upon  his  track  ?  He  breathed  short 
and  hard,  and  the  smoky  atmosphere  in  which  he 
was  enveloped  rendered  respiration  still  more  difficult. 
As  through  this  oppressive  vapour,  which  seemed 
only  fit  for  the  nether  world,  he  saw  the  coffin-plate 
flash  back  the  flame,  his  imagination  accumulated 
horror  on  horror  ;  and  when  the  blaze  sank,  and  but 
the  bright  red  of  the  fire  was  reflected,  it  seemed  to 


92  Weird  Tales. 

him  to  burn,  as  it  were,  with  a  spot  of  blood,  and  he 
could  support  the  scene  no  longer,  but  rushed  from 
the  barn  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on  frenzy. 

It  was  about  an  hour  afterwards,  near  midnight, 
that  the  old  barn  was  in  flames  ;  most  likely  some  of 
the  straw  near  the  fire,  in  the  confusion  of  the  break- 
ing up  of  the  party,  had  been  scattered  within  range 
of  ignition,  and  caused  the  accident.  The  flames 
were  seen  for  miles  round  the  country ;  and  the 
shattered  walls  of  the  ruined  mansion-house  were 
illuminated  brightly  by  the  glare  of  the  consuming 
barn,  which  in  the  morning  added  its  own  blackened 
and  reeking  ruin  to  the  desolation,  and  crowds  of 
persons  congregated  to  the  spot  for  many  days  after. 
The  charred  planks  of  the  coffin  were  dragged  from 
amongst  the  ruin ;  and  as  the  roof  in  falling  in  had 
dragged  a  large  portion  of  the  wall  along  with  it,  the 
stones  which  had  filled  the  coffin  could  not  be  dis- 
tinguished from  those  of  the  fallen  building,  therefore 
much  wonder  arose  that  no  vestige  of  the  bones  of 
the  corpse  it  was  supposed  to  contain  could  be  dis- 
covered. Wonder  increased  to  horror  as  the  strange 
fact  was  promulgated ;  and  in  the  ready  credulity  of 
a  superstitious  people,  the  terrible  belief  became 
general,  that  his  sable  majesty  had  made  off  with 
O'Grady  and  the  party  watching  him  ;  for  as  the 
Dubhn  bailiffs  never  stopped  till  they  got  back  to 
town,  and  were  never  seen  again  in  the  country,  it 
was  most  natural  to  suppose  that  the  devil  had  made 
a  haul  of  them  at  the  same  time.  In  a  few  days, 
rumour  added  the  spectral  appearance  of  Jim  Barlow 
to    the   tale,    which    only   deepened    its    mysterious 


The  Burial  of  O' Grady.  93 

horror  ;  and,  thoui^h  after  some  time,  the  true  story 
was  promulgated  by  those  who  knew  the  real  state  of 
the  case,  yet  the  truth  never  gained  ground,  and  was 
considered  but  a  clever  sham,  attempted  by  the 
family  to  prevent  so  dreadful  a  story  from  attaching 
to  their  house  ;  and  tradition  perpetuates  to  this  hour 
the  belief  that  the  dez'il  fleiv  away  ivith  0' Grady. 

Lone  and  shunned  as  the  hill  was  where  the  ruined 
house  stood,  it  became  more  lone  and  shunned  than 
ever ;  and  the  boldest  heart  in  the  whole  country- 
side would  quail  to  be  in  its  vicinity,  even  in  the  day- 
time. To  such  a  pitch  the  panic  rose,  that  an  exten- 
sive farm  which  encircled  it,  and  belonged  to  the  old 
usurer  who  made  the  seizure,  fell  into  a  profitless 
state,  from  the  impossibility  of  men  being  found  to 
work  upon  it.  It  was  useless  even  as  pasture,  for  no 
one  could  be  found  to  herd  cattle  upon  it  ;  altogether, 
it  was  a  serious  loss  to  the  money  grubber  ;  and  so 
far  the  incident  of  the  burnt  barn,  and  the  tradition  it 
gave  rise  to,  acted  beneficially,  in  making  the  in- 
human act  of  warring  with  the  dead  recoil  upon  the 
merciless  old  usurer. 


THE  LIANHAN  SHEE. 

By  Will.  Carlton. 

One  summer  evening  Mary  Sullivan  was  sitting  at 
her  own  well-swept  hearthstone,  knitting  feet  to  a 
pair  of  sheep's-grey  stockings  for  Bartley,  her  husband. 
It  was  one  of  those  serene  evenings  in  the  month  of 
June,  when  the  decline  of  day  assumes  a  calmness  and 
repose,  resembling  what  we  might  suppose  to  have 
irradiated  Eden,  when  our  first  parents  sat  in  it  before 
their  fall.  The  beams  of  the  sun  shone  through  the 
windows  in  clear  shafts  of  amber  light,  exhibiting 
millions  of  those  atoms  which  float  to  the  naked  eye 
within  its  mild  radiance.  The  dog  lay  barking  in  his 
dream  at  her  feet,  and  the  grey  cat  sat  purring  placidly 
upon  his  back,  from  which  even  his  occasional  agita- 
tion did  not  dislodge  her. 

Mrs.  Sullivan  was  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  farmer,  and 
niece  to  the  Rev.  Felix  O'Rourke ;  her  kitchen  was 
consequently  large,  comfortable,  and  warm.  Over 
where  she  sat,  jutted  out  the  "brace"  well  lined  with 
bacon  ;  to  the  right  hung  a  well-scoured  salt-box,  and 
to  the  left  was  the  jamb,  with  its  little  Gothic  paneless 
window  to  admit  the  light.  Within  it  hung  several 
ash  rungs,  seasoning  for  flail-sooples,  or  boulteens, 
a  dozen  of  eel-skins,  and  several  stripes  of  horse-skin, 
as  hangings  for  them.  The  dresser  was  a  "  parfit 
white,"  and  well  furnished  with  the  usual  appurte- 
94 


The  LianJian  Slice.  95 

nances.  Over  the  door  and  on  the  "  threshel,"  were 
nailed,  "for  luck,"  two  horse-shoes,  that  had  been 
found  by  accident.  In  a  little  "hole"  in  the  wall, 
beneath  the  salt-box,  lay  a  bottle  of  holy  water  to 
keep  the  place  purified  ;  and  against  the  copestone  of 
the  gable,  on  the  outside,  grew  a  large  lump  of  house- 
leek,  as  a  specific  for  sore  eyes  and  other  maladies. 

In  the  corner  of  the  garden  were  a  few  stalks  of 
tansy  "  to  kill  the  thievin'  worms  in  the  childhre,  the 
crathurs,"  together  with  a  little  Rosenoble,  Solomon's 
Seal,  and  Bugloss,  each  for  some  medicinal  purpose. 
The  "lime  wather"  Mrs.  Sullivan  could  make  her- 
self, and  the  "bog  bane"  for  the  link  roe,  or  heart- 
burn, grew  in  their  own  meadow-drain ;  so  that,  in 
fact,  she  had  within  her  reach  a  very  decent  pharma- 
copoeia, perhaps  as  harmless  as  that  of  the  profession 
itself.  Lying  on  the  top  of  the  salt-box  was  a  bunch 
of  fairy  flax,  and  sewed  in  the  folds  of  her  own 
scapular  was  the  dust  of  what  had  once  been  a  four- 
leaved  shamrock,  an  invaluable  specific  "for  seein" 
the  good  people,"  if  they  happened  to  come  within 
the  bounds  of  vision.  Over  the  door  in  the  inside, 
over  the  beds,  and  over  the  cattle  in  the  outhouses, 
were  placed  branches  of  withered  palm,  that  had  been 
consecrated  by  the  priest  on  Palm  Sunday  ;  and  when 
the  cows  happened  to  calve,  this  good  woman  tie<l, 
with  her  own  hands,  a  woollen  thread  about  their 
tails,  to  prevent  them  from  being  overlooked  by  evil 
eyes,  or  elf-shot  by  the  fairies,  who  seem  to  possess  a 
peculiar  power  over  females  of  every  species  during 
the  period  of  parturition.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
mention  the  variety  of  charms  which  she  possessed 


96  Weird  Tales. 

for  that  obsolete  malady  the  colic,  for  toothache, 
headaches,  or  for  removing  warts,  and  taking  motes 
out  of  the  eyes ;  let  it  suffice  to  inform  our  readers 
that  she  was  well  stocked  with  them  ;  and  that  in 
addition  to  this,  she,  together  with  her  husband, 
drank  a  potion  made  up  and  administered  by  an  herb- 
doctor,  for  preventing  for  ever  the  slightest  misunder- 
standing or  quarrel  between  man  and  wife.  Whether 
it  produced  this  desirable  object  or  not  our  readers 
may  conjecture,  when  we  add,  that  the  herb-doctor, 
after  having  taken  a  very  liberal  advantage  of  their 
generosity,  was  immediately  compelled  to  disappear 
from  the  neighbourhood,  in  order  to  avoid  meeting 
with  Bartley,  who  had  a  sharp  look-out  for  him,  not 
exactly  on  his  own  account,  but  "in  regard,"  he  said, 
"  that  it  had  no  effect  upon  Mary,  at  all  at  all "  ; 
whilst  Mary,  on  the  other  hand,  admitted  its  efficacy 
upon  herself,  but  maintained,  "that  Bartley  was 
worse  nor  ever  afther  it." 

Such  was  Mary  Sullivan,  as  she  sat  at  her  own 
hearth,  quite  alone,  engaged  as  we  have  represented 
her.  What  she  may  have  been  meditating  on  we 
cannot  pretend  to  ascertain  ;  but  after  some  time,  she 
looked  sharply  into  the  "backstone,"  or  hob,  with 
an  air  of  anxiety  and  alarm.  By  and  by  she  sus- 
pended her  knitting,  and  listened  with  much  earnest- 
ness, leaning  her  right  ear  over  to  the  hob,  from 
whence  the  sounds  to  which  she  paid  such  deep 
attention  proceeded.  At  length  she  crossed  herself 
devoutly,  and  exclaimed,  "  Queen  of  saints  about  us  ! 
— is  it  back  ye  are  ?  Well  sure  there's  no  use  in 
talkin'  bekase  they  say  you  know  what's  said  of  you, 


TJie  Liafihan  Shee.  97 

or  to  you — an'  we  may  as  well  spake  yez  fair.  Hem 
— musha  yez  are  welcome  back,  crickets,  avour- 
neenee !  I  hope  that,  not  like  the  last  visit  ye 
ped  us,  yez  are  comin'  for  luck  now !  Moolyeen 
died,  any  way,  soon  afther  your  other  kailyee,  ye 
crathurs  ye.  Here's  the  bread,  an'  the  salt,  an' 
the  male  for  yez,  an'  we  wish  ye  well.  Eh? — 
saints  above,  if  it  isn't  listenin'  they  are  jist  like  a 
Christhien  !  Wurrah,  but  ye  are  the  wise  an'  the 
quare  crathurs  all  out !  " 

She  then  shook  a  little  holy  water  over  the  hob, 
and  muttered  to  herself  an  Irish  charm  or  prayer 
against  the  evils  which  crickets  are  often  supposed  by 
the  peasantry  to  bring  with  them,  and  requested,  still 
in  the  words  of  the  charm,  that  their  presence  might, 
on  that  occasion,  rather  be  a  presage  of  good  fortune 
to  man  and  beast  belonging  to  her. 

"There  now,  ye  dhonaiis  ye,  sure  ye  can't  say  that 
ye're  ill-thrated  here,  anyhow,  or  ever  was  mocked 
or  made  game  of  in  the  same  family.  You  have  got 
your  hansel,  an'  full  an'  plenty  of  it ;  hopin'  at  the 
same  time  that  you'll  have  no  rason  in  life  to  cut  our 
best  clothes  from  revinge.  Sure  an'  I  didn't  desarve 
to  have  my  brave  stuff  long  body  riddled  the  way  it 
was  the  last  time  ye  wor  here,  an'  only  bekase  little 
Barny,  that  has  but  the  sinse  oi  2.  gorsoon,  tould  yez 
in  a  joke  to  pack  off  wid  yourselves  somewhere  else. 
Musha,  never  heed  what  the  likes  of  him  says  ;  sure 
he's  but  a  caudy,  that  doesn't  mane  ill,  only  the  bit 
o'  divarsion  wid  yez." 

She  then  resumed  her  knitting,  occasionally  stop- 
ping, as  she  changed  her  needles,  to  listen,  with 
/  G 


98  Weird  Tales. 

her  ear  set,  as  if  she  wished  to  augur  from  the 
nature  of  their  chirping,  whether  they  came  for 
good  or  evil.  This,  however,  seemed  to  be  beyond 
her  faculty  of  translating  their  language ;  for  after 
sagely  shaking  her  head  two  or  three  times,  she  knit 
more  busily  than  before. 

At  this  moment,  the  shadow  of  a  person  passing 
the  house  darkened  the  window  opposite  which  she 
sat,  and  immediately  a  tall  female,  of  a  wild  dress 
and  aspect,  entered  the  kitchen. 

"  Gho  manhy  dhea  ghttd^  a  ban  chohrl  the  blessin' 
o'  goodness  upon  you,  dacent  woman,"  said  Mrs. 
Sullivan,  addressing  her  in  those  kindly  phrases  so 
peculiar  to  the  Irish  language. 

Instead  of  making  her  any  reply,  however,  the 
woman,  whose  eye  glistened  with  a  wild  depth  of 
meaning,  exclaimed  in  low  tones,  apparently  of  much 
anguish,  ^^  Hushty  husht,  dherumi  husht,  husht,  I 
say — let  me  alone — I  will  do  it — will  you  husht  ?  I 
will,  I  say — I  will — there  now — that's  it — be  quiet, 
an'  I  will  do  it — be  quiet ! "  and  as  she  thus  spoke 
she  turned  her  face  back  over  her  left  shoulder,  as  if 
some  invisible  being  dogged  her  steps,  and  stood 
bending  over  her. 

"  Gho  manhy  dhea  ghud,  a  ban  chohr,  dherhum 
areesht  I  the  blessin'  o'  God  on  you,  honest  woman,  I 
say  again,"  said  Mrs.  Sullivan,  repeating  that  sacred 
form  of  salutation  with  which  the  peasantry  address 
each  other.  "  'Tis  a  fine  evenin',  honest  woman, 
glory  be  to  Him  that  sent  the  same,  and  amin  !  If 
it  was  cowld,  I'd  be  axin'  you  to  draw  your  chair  in 
to  the  fire  j  but,  any  way,  won't  you  sit  down  ?  " 


TJie  Lianhaii  Shee.  99 

As  she  ceased  speaking  the  piercing  eye  of  the 
strange  woman  became  riveted  on  her  with  a  glare, 
which,  whilst  it  startled  Mrs.  Sullivan,  seemed  full  of 
an  agony  that  almost  abstracted  her  from  external 
life.  It  was  not,  however,  so  wholly  absorbing  as  to 
prevent  it  from  expressing  a  marked  interest,  whether 
for  good  or  evil,  in  the  woman  who  addressed  her 
so  hospitably. 

"Husht,  now — husht,"  she  said,  as  if  aside— 
"husht,  won't  you — sure  I  may  speak  the  thing  to 
her — you  said  it — there  now,  husht !  "  And  then 
fastening  her  dark  eyes  on  Mrs.  Sullivan,  she  smiled 
bitterly  and  mysteriously. 

"  I  know  you  well,"  she  said,  without,  however, 
returning  the  blessing  contained  in  the  usual  reply  to 
Mrs.  Sullivan's  salutation — "  I  know  you  well,  Mary 
Sullivan — husht,  now,  husht — yes,  I  know  you  well, 
and  the  power  of  all  that  you  carry  about  you  ;  but 
you'd  be  better  than  you  are — and  that's  well  enough 
nonv — if  you  had  sense  to  know — ah,  ah,  ah  ! — what's 
this ! "  she  exclaimed  abruptly,  with  three  distinct 
shrieks,  that  seemed  to  be  produced  by  sensations  of 
sharp  and  piercing  agony. 

"  In  the  name  of  goodness,  what's  over  you,  honest 
woman  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Sullivan,  as  she  started  from 
her  chair,  and  ran  to  her  in  a  state  of  alarm,  bordering 
on  terror — "  Is  it  sick  you  are  ?  " 

The  woman's  face  had  got  haggard,  and  its  features 
distorted  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes  they  resumed  their 
peculiar  expression  of  settled  wildness  and  mystery. 
"Sick!"  she  replied,  licking  her  parched  lips; 
'■'■  awirck,    aivink!   look!    look!"    and   she   pointed 


loo  Weird  Tales. 

with  a  shudder  that  almost  convulsed  her  whole 
frame,  to  a  lump  that  rose  on  her  shoulders  ;  this,  be 
it  what  it  might,  was  covered  with  a  red  cloak,  closely 
pinned  and  tied  with  great  caution  about  her  body — 
"  'tis  here  ! — I  have  it ! " 

*'  Blessed  mother  ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sullivan, 
tottering  over  to  her  chair,  as  finished  a  picture  of 
horror  as  the  eye  could  witness,  "  this  day's  Friday  : 
the  saints  stand  betwixt  me  an'  all  harm  !  Oh,  holy 
Mary,  protect  me  !  Nhatiim  an  airhy^  in  the  name 
of  the  Father,  etc.,  and  she  forthwith  proceeded  to 
bless  herself,  which  she  did  thirteen  times  in  honour 
of  the  blessed  virgin  and  the  twelve  apostles. 

"Ay,  it's  as  you  see!"  repHed  the  stranger 
bitterly.  "It  is  here — husht,  now — husht,  I  say — I 
will  say  the  thing  to  her,  mayn't  I?  Ay,  indeed, 
Mary  Sullivan,  'tis  with  me  always— always.  Well, 
well,  no,  I  won't,  I  won't — easy.  Oh,  blessed  saints, 
easy,  and  I  won't !  " 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Sullivan  had  uncorked  her 
bottle  of  holy  water,  and  plentifully  bedewed  herself 
with  it,  as  a  preservative  against  this  mysterious 
woman  and  her  dreadful  secret. 

"Blessed  mother  above!"  she  ejaculated,  "the 
Lianhan  Shee!"  And  as  she  spoke,  with  the  holy 
water  in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  she  advanced  cau- 
tiously, and  with  great  terror,  to  throw  it  upon  the 
stranger  and  the  unearthly  thing  she  bore. 

"Don't  attempt  it!"  shouted  the  other,  in  tones 
of  mingled  fierceness  and  terror;  "do  you  want  to 
give  me  pain  without  keeping  j^z<rj-<?^  anything  at  all 
safer?    Don't  you  know  it  doesn't  care  about  your 


The  Lianlia7i  Shee.  loi 

holy  water?  But  I'd  suffer  for  it,  an'  perhaps  so 
would  you." 

Mrs.  Sullivan,  terrified  by  the  agitated  looks  of  the 
woman,  drew  back  with  affright,  and  threw  the  holy 
water  with  which  she  intended  to  purify  the  other  on 
her  own  person. 

"Why  thin,  you  lost  crathur,  who  or  what  are 
you  at  all? — don't,  don't — for  the  sake  of  all  the 
saints  and  angels  of  heaven,  don't  come  next  or  near 
me — keep  your  distance — but  what  are  you,  or  how 
did  you  come  to  get  that  '  good  thing '  you  carry 
about  wid  you  ?  " 

"Ay,  indeed!"  replied  the  woman  bitterly,  "as 
if  I  would  or  could  tell  you  that  !  I  say,  you  woman, 
you're  doing  what's  not  right  in  asking  me  a  question 
you  ought  not  let  to  cross  your  lips — look  to  yourself, 
and  what's  over  you." 

The  simple  woman,  thinking  her  meaning  literal, 
almost  leaped  off  her  seat  with  terror,  and  turned  up 
her  eyes  to  ascertain  whether  or  not  any  dreadful 
appearance  had  approached  her,  or  hung  over  her 
where  she  sat. 

"Woman,"  said  she,  "I  spoke  you  kind  an'  fair, 
an'  I  wish  you  well — but  " — 

"But  what?"  replied  the  other — and  her  eyes 
kindled  into  deep  and  profound  excitement,  ap- 
parently upon  very  slight  grounds. 

"  Why — hem — nothin'  at  all  sure,  only" — 

"  Only  what?"  asked  the  stranger,  v/ith  a  face  o( 
anguish  that  seemed  to  torture  every  feature  out  of  its 
proper  lineaments. 

"  Dacent  woman,"  said  Mrs.   Sullivan,   whilst  the 


I02  Weird  Tales. 

hair  began  to  stand  with  terror  upon  her  head,  "sure 
it's  no  wondher  in  hfe  that  I'm  in  a  perplexity,  whin 
a  Lianhan  Shee  is  undher  the  one  roof  wid  me. 
'Tisn't  that  I  want  to  know  anything  at  all  about  it 
— the  dear  forbid  I  should  ;  but  I  never  hard  of  a 
person  bein'  tormented  wid  it  as  you  are.  I  always 
used  to  hear  the  people  say  that  it  thrated  its  friends 
well." 

"  Husht  ! "  said  the  woman,  looking  wildly  over 
her  shoulder,  "I'll  not  tell:  it's  on  myself  I'll  leave 
the  blame  !  Why,  will  you  never  pity  me  ?  Am  I 
to  be  night  and  day  tormented  ?  Oh,  you're  wicked 
and  cruel  for  no  reason  !  " 

"Thry,"said  Mrs.  Sullivan,  "an'  bless  yourself; 
call  on  God." 

*'  Ah  !  "  shouted  the  other,  "  are  you  going  to  get 
me  killed  ? "  and  as  she  uttered  the  words,  a 
spasmodic  working  which  must  have  occasioned 
great  pain,  even  to  torture,  became  audible  in 
her  throat ;  her  bosom  heaved  up  and  down,  and 
her  head  was  bent  repeatedly  on  her  breast,  as  if  by 
force. 

"Don't  mention  that  name,  said  she,  "in  my 
presence,  except  you  mean  to  drive  me  to  utter 
distraction.  I  mean,"  she  continued,  after  consider- 
able effort  to  recover  her  former  tone  and  manner — 
"hear  me  with  attention — I  mean,  woman — you, 
Mary  Sullivan — that  if  you  mention  that  holy  name, 
you  might  as  well  keep  plunging  sharp  knives  into 
my  heart !  Husht !  peace  to  me  for  one  minute, 
tormentor !  Spare  me  something,  I'm  in  your 
power  ! " 


Tlic  Lia?iha?i  Shee.  103 

"Will  you  ate  anything?"  said  Mrs.  Sullivan; 
"poor  crathur,  you  look  like  hunger  an'  distress; 
there's  enough  in  the  house,  blessed  be  them  that  sent 
it !  an'  you  had  betther  thry  an'  take  some  nourish- 
ment, any  way  ; "  and  she  raised  her  eyes  in  a  silent 
prayer  of  relief  and  ease  for  the  unhappy  woman, 
whose  unhallowed  association  had,  in  her  opinion, 
sealed  her  doom. 

"Will  I? — will  I? — oh!"  she  replied,  "may  you 
never  know  misery  for  offering  it !  Oh,  bring  me 
something — some  refreshment — some  food — for  I'm 
dying  with  hunger." 

Mrs.  Sullivan,  who,  with  all  her  superstition, 
was  remarkable  for  charity  and  benevolence,  im- 
mediately placed  food  and  drink  before  her,  which 
the  stranger  absolutely  devoured — taking  care  occa- 
sionally to  secrete  under  the  protuberance  which 
appeared  behind  her  neck,  a  portion  of  what  she 
ate.  This,  however,  she  did,  not  by  stealth,  but 
openly ;  merely  taking  means  to  prevent  the  con- 
cealed thing  from  being,  by  any  possible  accident, 
discovered. 

Wlien  the  craving  of  hunger  was  satisfied,  she 
appeared  to  suffer  less  from  the  persecution  of  her 
tormentor  than  before  ;  whether  it  was.  as  Mrs. 
Sullivan  thought,  that  the  food  with  which  she  plied 
it,  appeased  in  some  degree  its  irritability,  or  lessened 
that  of  the  stranger,  it  was  difBcult  to  say ;  at  all 
events,  she  became  more  composed ;  her  eyes  re- 
sumed somewhat  of  a  natural  expression  ;  each  sharp 
ferocious  glare,  which  shot  from  them  with  such 
intense  and  rapid  flashes,  partially  disappeared  ;  her 


I04  Weird  Tales. 

knit  brows  dilated,  and  part  of  a  forehead,  which  had 
once  been  capacious  and  handsome,  lost  the  contrac- 
tions which  deformed  it  by  deep  wrinkles.  Altogether 
the  change  was  evident,  and  very  much  relieved 
Mrs.  Sullivan,  who  could  not  avoid  observing  it. 

**It's  not  that  I  care  much  about  it,  if  you'd  think 
it  not  right  o'  me,  but  it's  odd  enough  for  you  to 
keep  the  lower  part  of  your  face  muffled  up  in  that 
black  cloth,  an'  then  your  forehead,  too,  is  covered 
down  on  your  face  a  bit.  If  they're  part  of  the 
bargain,^''  —  and  she  shuddered  at  the  thought, — 
"between  you  an'  anything  that's  not  good — hem  ! — 
I  think  you'd  do  well  to  throw  thim  off  o'  you,  an' 
turn  to  thim  that  can  protect  you  from  everything 
that's  bad.  Now,  a  scapular  would  keep  all  the 
divils  in  hell  from  one  ;  an'  if  you'd  " — 

On  looking  at  the  stranger  she  hesitated,  for  the 
wild  expression  of  her  eyes  began  to  return. 

"Don't  begin  my  punishment  again,"  replied  the 
woman;  "make  no  alius — don't  make  mention  in 
my  presence  of  anything  that's  good.  Husht — 
husht — it's  beginning — easy  now — easy  !  No,"  said 
she,  "  I  came  to  tell  you,  that  only  for  my  breaking 
a  vow  I  made  to  this  thing  upon  me,  I'd  be  happy 
instead  of  miserable  with  it.  I  say,  it's  a  good  thing 
to  have,  if  the  person  will  use  this  bottle,"  she 
added,  producing  one,  "as  I  will  direct  them." 

"  I  wouldn't  wish,  for  my  part,"  replied  Mrs. 
Sullivan,  "  to  have  anything  to  do  wid  it — neither 
act  nor  part ; "  and  she  crossed  herself  devoutly,  on 
contemplating  such  an  unholy  alliance  as  that  at 
which  her  companion  hinted. 


The  Lianhaii  Shee.  105 

"Mary  Sullivan,"  replied  the  other,  "I  can  put 
good  fortune  and  happiness  in  the  way  of  you  and 
yours.  It  is  for  you  the  good  is  intended  ;  if  you 
don't  get  both,  no  other  can,"  and  her  eyes  kindled 
as  she  spoke  like  those  of  the  Pythoness  in  the 
moment  of  inspiration. 

Mrs,  Sullivan  looked  at  her  with  awe,  fear,  and  a 
strong  mixture  of  curiosity  ;  she  had  often  heard  that 
the  Lianhaii  Shee  had,  through  means  of  the  person 
to  whom  it  was  bound,  conferred  wealth  upon  several, 
although  it  could  never  render  this  important  ser- 
vice to  those  who  exercised  direct  authority  over  it. 
She  therefore  experienced  something  like  a  conflict 
between  her  fears  and  a  love  of  that  wealth,  the 
possession  of  which  was  so  plainly  intimated  to  her. 

"The  money,"  said  she,  "would  be  one  thing, 
but  to  have  the  Lianhan  Shee  planted  over  a  body's 
shouldher — och  !  the  saints  preserve  us  ! — no,  not  for 
oceans  of  hard  goold  would  I  have  it  in  my  company 
one  minnit.  But  in  regard  to  the  money — hem  ! — 
why,  if  it  could  be  managed  widout  havin'  act  or 
part  wid  that  thmg,  people  would  do  anything  in 
rason  and  fairity." 

"You  have  this  day  been  kind  to  me,"  replied 
the  woman,  "  and  that's  what  I  can't  say  of  many — 
dear  help  me  ! — husht !  Every  door  is  shut  in  my 
face  !  Does  not  every  cheek  get  pale  when  I  am 
seen  ?  If  I  meet  a  fellow-creature  on  the  road,  they 
turn  into  the  field  to  avoid  me  ;  if  I  ask  for  food,  it's 
to  a  deaf  ear  I  speak  ;  if  I  am  thirsty,  they  send  mc 
to  the  river.  What  house  would  shelter  me?  In 
cold,  in  hunger,  in  drought,  in  storm,  and  in  tempest, 


io6  Weird  Tales. 

I  am  alone  and  unfriended,  hated,  feared,  an'  avoided; 
starving  in  the  winter's  cold,  and  burning  in  the 
summer's  heat.  All  this  is  my  fate  here ;  and — 
oh  !  oh  !  oh  ! — have  mercy,  tormentor — have  mercy  ! 
I  will  not  lift  my  thoughts  there — I'll  keep  the  paction 
— but  spare  me  now  !  " 

She  turned  round  as  she  spoke,  seeming  to  follow 
an  invisible  object,  or,  perhaps,  attempting  to  get 
a  more  complete  view  of  the  mysterious  being  which 
exercised  such  a  terrible  and  painful  influence  over 
her.  Mrs.  Sullivan,  also,  kept  her  eye  fixed  upon 
the  lump,  and  actually  believed  that  she  saw  it  move. 
Fear  of  incurring  the  displeasure  of  what  it  contained, 
and  a  superstitious  reluctance  harshly  to  thrust  a 
person  from  her  door  who  had  eaten  of  her  food, 
prevented  her  from  desiring  the  woman  to  depart. 

"In  the  name  of  Goodness,"  she  replied,  "I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  wid  your  gift.  Providence, 
blessed  be  His  name,  has  done  well  for  me  an'  mine  ; 
an*  it  mightn't  be  right  to  go  beyant  what  it  has 
pleased  Him  to  give  me." 

*'  A  rational  sentiment  ! — I  mean  there's  good  sense 
in  what  you  say,"  answered  the  stranger:  "but  you 
need  not  be  afraid,"  and  she  accompanied  the  ex- 
pression by  holding  up  the  bottle  and  kneeling. 
"Now,"  she  added,  "listen  to  me,  and  judge  for 
yourself,  if  what  I  say,  when  I  swear  it,  can  be  a 
lie."  She  then  proceeded  to  utter  oaths  of  the  most 
solemn  nature,  the  purport  of  which  was  to  assure 
]\Irs.  Sullivan  that  drinking  of  the  bottle  would  be 
attended  with  no  danger. 

'*  You  see  this  little  bottle?    Drink  it.    Oh,  for  my 


The  LiiDihan  Shee.  107 

sake  and  your  own,  drink  it ;  it  will  give  wealth 
without  end  to  you  and  to  all  belonging  to  you. 
Take  one  -  half  of  it  before  sunrise,  and  the  other 
half  when  he  goes  down.  You  must  staiid  while 
drinking  it,  with  your  face  to  the  east,  in  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  at  night,  to  the  west.  Will  you  promise 
to  do  thus?" 

"How  would  drinkin'  the  bottle  get  me  money?" 
inquired  Mrs.  Sullivan,  who  certainly  felt  a  strong 
tendency  of  heart  to  the  wealth. 

"That  I  can't  tell  you  now,  nor  would  you  under- 
stand it,  even  if  I  could  ;  but  you  will  know  all  when 
what  I  say  is  complied  with." 

"  Keep  your  bottle,  dacent  woman.  I  wash  my 
hands  out  of  it :  the  saints  above  guard  me  from  the 
timptation  !  I'm  sure  it's  not  right,  for  as  I'm  a 
sinner,  'tis  gettin'  stronger  every  minute  widin  me  ! 
Keep  it !  I'm  loth  to  bid  any  one  that  ett  o'  my 
bread  to  go  from  my  hearth,  but  if  you  go,  I'll  make 
it  worth  your  while.  Saints  above  !  what's  comin' 
over  me  ?  In  my  whole  life  I  never  had  such  a 
hankerin'  afther  money  !  Well,  well,  but  it's  quare 
entirely  ! " 

"  Will  you  drink  it?"  asked  her  companion.  "  If 
it  does  hurt  or  harm  to  you  or  yours,  or  anything  but 
good,  may  what  is  hanging  over  me  be  fulfilled  ! " 
and  she  extended  a  thin,  but,  considering  her  years, 
not  ungraceful  arm,  in  the  act  of  holding  out  the 
bottle  to  her  kind  entertainer. 

"  For  the  sake  of  all  that's  good  and  gracious,  take 
it  without  scruple — it  is  not  hurtful,  a  child  might 
drink  every  drop  that's  in  it.     Oh,  for  the  sake  of  all 


io8  Weird  Tales. 

you  love,  and  of  all  that  love  you,  take  it ! "  and 
as  she  urged  her  the  tears  streamed  down  her 
cheeks. 

"No,  no,"  replied  Mrs.  Sullivan,  "it'll  never  cross 
my  lips ;  not  if  it  made  me  as  rich  as  ould  Hendherson, 
that  airs  his  guineas  in  the  sun,  for  fraid  they'd  get 
light  by  lyin'  past." 

"  I  entreat  you  to  take  it,"  said  the  strange 
woman. 

"  Never,  never  ! — once  for  all — I  say,  I  won't ;  so 
spare  your  breath." 

The  firmness  of  the  good  housewife  was  not,  in 
fact,  to  be  shaken ;  so,  after  exhausting  all  the 
motives  and  arguments  with  which  she  could  urge 
the  accomplishment  of  her  design,  the  strange  woman, 
having  again  put  the  bottle  into  her  bosom,  prepared 
to  depart. 

She  had  now  once  more  become  calm,  and  resumed 
her  seat  with  the  languid  air  of  one  who  has  suffered 
much  exhaustion  and  excitement.  She  put  her  hand 
upon  her  forehead  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  collecting 
her  faculties,  or  endeavouring  to  remember  the  pur- 
port of  their  previous  conversation.  A  slight  moisture 
had  broken  through  her  skin,  and  altogether,  not- 
withstanding her  avowed  criminality  in  entering  into 
an  unholy  bond,  she  appeared  an  object  of  deep 
compassion. 

In  a  moment  her  manner  changed  again,  and  her 
eyes  blazed  out  once  more,  as  she  asked  her  alarmed 
hostess, — 

"  Again,  Mary  Sullivan,  will  you  take  the  gift  that 
1  have  it  in  my  power  to  give  you  ?  ay  or  no  ?  speak, 


The  Liaulia)i  S/iee.  109 

poor  mortal,  if  you  know  what  is  for  your  own 
good." 

Mrs.  Sullivan's  fears,  however,  had  overcome  her 
love  of  money,  particularly  as  she  thought  that 
wealth  obtained  in  such  a  manner  could  not  prosper  ; 
her  only  objection  being  to  the  means  of  acquiring  it. 

"Oh!"  said  the  stranger,  "am  I  doomed  never 
to  meet  with  any  one  who  will  take  the  promise  off 
me  by  drinking  of  this  bottle.  Oh  !  but  I  am  un- 
happy !  What  it  is  to  fear — ah  !  ah  ! — and  keep  His 
commandments.  Had  /  done  so  in  my  youthful 
time,  I  wouldn't  now — ah — merciful  mother,  is  there 
no  relief?  kill  me,  tormentor;  kill  me  outright, 
for  surely  the  pangs  of  eternity  cannot  be  greater 
than  those  you  now  make  me  suffer.  Woman,"  saiil 
she,  and  her  muscles  stood  out  in  extraordinary 
energy — "woman,  Mary  Sullivan — ay,  if  you  should 
kill  me — blast  me — where  I  stand,  I  will  say  the 
word — woman — you  have  daughters — teach  them — 
to  fear" —  Having  got  so  far,  she  stopped— her 
bosom  heaved  up  and  down — her  frame  shook  dread- 
fully— her  eyeballs  became  lurid  and  fiery — her  hands 
were  clenched,  and  the  spasmodic  throes  of  inward 
convulsion  worked  the  white  froth  up  to  her  mouth  ; 
at  length  she  suddenly  became  like  a  statue,  with 
this  wild  supernatural  expression  intense  upon  her, 
and  with  an  awful  calmness,  by  far  more  dreadful 
than  excitement  could  be,  concluded  by  pronouncing 
in  deep  husky  tones  the  name  of  God. 

Having  accomplished  this  with  such  a  powerful 
struggle,  she  turned  round  with  pale  despair  in  her 
countenance  and  manner,   and  with  streaming   eyes 


no  Weird  Tales. 

slowly  departed,  leaving  Mrs.  Sullivan  in  a  situation 
not  at  all  to  be  envied. 

In  a  short  time  the  other  members  of  the  family, 
who  had  been  out  at  their  evening  employments, 
returned.  Bartley,  her  husband,  having  entered 
somewhat  sooner  than  his  three  daughters  from 
milking,  was  the  first  to  come  in  ;  presently  the  girls 
followed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  sat  down  to 
supper,  together  with  the  servants,  who  dropped  in  one 
by  one,  after  the  toil  of  the  day.  On  placing  them- 
selves about  the  table,  Bartley  as  usual  took  his  seat 
at  the  head ;  but  Mrs.  Sullivan,  instead  of  occupying 
hers,  sat  at  the  fire  in  a  state  of  uncommon  agitation, 
Eveiy  two  or  three  minutes  she  would  cross  herself 
devoutly,  and  mutter  such  prayers  against  spiritual 
influences  of  an  evil  nature  as  she  could  compose 
herself  to  remember. 

"Thin,  why  don't  you  come  to  your  supper, 
Mary,"  said  the  husband,  "while  the  sowans  are 
warm?  Brave  and  thick  they  are  this  night,  any 
way." 

His  wife  was  silent,  for  so  strong  a  hold  had  the 
strange  woman  and  her  appalling  secret  upon  her 
mind,  that  it  was  not  till  he  repeated  his  question 
three  or  four  times — raising  his  head  with  surprise, 
and  asking,  "  Eh,  thin,  Mary,  what's  come  over  you 
— is  it  unwell  you  are  ?  " — that  she  noticed  what  he 
said. 

"Supper!"  she  exclaimed ;  "unwell!  'tis  a  good 
right  I  have  to  be  unwell, — I  hope  nothing  bad  will 
happen,  any  way.  Feel  my  face,  Nannie,"  she  added, 
addressing  one  of  her  daughters;  "it's  as  cowld  an' 


The  Lianhan  Shee.  1 1 1 

wet  as  a  limestone — ay,  an'  if  you  found  me  a  corpse 
before  you,  it  wouldn't  be  at  all  strange." 

There  was  a  general  pause  at  the  seriousness  of 
this  intimation.  The  husband  rose  from  his  supper, 
and  went  up  to  the  hearth  where  she  sat. 

"Turn  round  to  the  light,"  said  he  ;  "why,  Mar}- 
dear,  in  the  name  of  wondher,  what  ails  you  ?  for 
you're  like  a  corpse  sure  enough.  Can't  you  tell 
us  what  has  happened,  or  what  put  you  in  such  a 
state?  Why,  childhre,  the  covvld  sweat's  teeniin' 
off  her!" 

The  poor  woman,  unable  to  sustain  the  shock 
produced  by  her  interview  with  the  stranger,  found 
herself  getting  more  weak,  and  requested  a  drink  of 
water ;  but  before  it  could  be  put  to  her  lips,  she 
laid  her  head  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  and  fainted. 
Grief,  and  uproar,  and  confusion  followed  this  alarm- 
ing incident.  The  presence  of  mind,  so  necessary  on 
such  occasions,  was  wholly  lost ;  one  ran  here,  and 
another  there,  all  jostling  against  each  other,  without 
being  cool  enough  to  render  her  proper  assistance. 
The  daughters  were  in  tears,  and  Bartley  himself 
was  dreadfully  shocked  by  seeing  his  wife  apparently 
lifeless  before  him. 

She  soon  recovered,  however,  and  relieved  them 
from  the  apprehension  of  her  death,  which  they 
thought  had  actually  taken  place.  "Mary,"  said  the 
husband,  "something  quare  entirely  has  happened, 
or  you  wouldn't  be  in  this  state  ! " 

"Did  any  of  you  see  a  strange  woman  lavin'  the 
house  a  minute  or  two  before  ye  came  in  ? "  she 
inquired. 


112  Weird  Tales. 

*' Xo,"  they  replied,  "not  a  stim  of  any  one  did 
we  see." 

"Wurrah  dheelish  !  No? — now  is  it  possible  ye 
didn't?"  She  then  described  her,  but  all  declared 
they  had  seen  no  such  person. 

"Bartley,  whisper,"  said  she,  and  beckoning  him 
over  to  her,  in  few  words  she  revealed  the  secret. 
The  husband  grew  pale  and  crossed  himself. 
"  Mother  of  Saints  !  childhre,"  said  he,  "  a  Lianhan 
Shee!"  The  words  were  no  sooner  uttered  than 
every  countenance  assumed  the  pallidness  of  death  ; 
and  every  right  hand  was  raised  in  the  act  of  blessing 
the  person,  and  crossing  the  forehead.  "  The  Lianhan 
Sheeir'  all  exclaimed  in  fear  and  horror — "This 
day's  Friday  ;  God  betwixt  us  an'  harm  !  " 

It  was  now  after  dusk,  and  the  hour  had  already 
deepened  into  the  darkness  of  a  calm,  moonless, 
summer  night ;  the  hearth,  therefore,  in  a  short  time, 
became  surrounded  by  a  circle,  consisting  of  every 
person  in  the  house  ;  the  door  was  closed  and  securely 
bolted  ; — a  struggle  for  the  safest  seat  took  place ; 
and  to  Bartley's  shame  be  it  spoken,  he  lodged 
himself  on  the  hob  within  the  jamb,  as  the  most 
distant  situation  from  the  fearful  being  known  as  the 
Lianhan  Shee.  The  recent  terror,  however,  brooded 
over  them  all ;  their  topic  of  conversation  was  the 
mysterious  visit,  of  which  Mrs.  Sullivan  gave  a  pain- 
fully accurate  detail ;  whilst  every  ear  of  those  who 
composed  her  audience  was  set,  and  every  single  hair  of 
their  heads  bristled  up,  as  if  awakened  into  distinct 
life  by  the  story.  Bartley  looked  into  the  fire  soberly, 
except  when  the  cat,  in  prowling  about  the  dresser, 


The  Lianhan  S/iee.  113 

electrified  him  into  a  start  of  fear,  which  sensation 
went  round  every  link  of  the  living  chain  about  the 
hearth. 

The  next  day  the  story  spread  through  the  whole 
neighbourhood,  accumulating  in  interest  and  incident 
as  it  went.  Where  it  received  the  touches,  embel- 
lishments, and  emendations,  with  which  it  was 
amplified,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  ;  every  one  told 
it,  forsooth,  exactly  as  he  heard  it  from  another,  but 
indeed  it  is  not  improbable  that  those  through  whom 
it  passed  were  unconscious  of  the  additions  it  had 
received  at  their  hands.  It  is  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose  that  imagination  in  such  cases  often  colours 
highly  without  a  premeditated  design  of  falsehood. 
Fear  and  dread,  however,  accompanied  its  progress ; 
such  families  as  had  neglected  to  keep  holy  water  in 
their  houses  borrowed  some  from  their  neighbours ; 
every  old  prayer  which  had  become  rusty  from  dis- 
use was  brightened  up — charms  were  hung  about 
the  necks  of  cattle,  and  gospels  about  those  of  chiL 
dren — crosses  were  placed  over  the  doors  and  win- 
dows ; — no  unclean  water  was  thrown  out  before 
sunrise  or  after  dusk — 

"  E'en  those  prayed  now  who  never  prayed  before, 
And  those  who  always  prayed,  still  prayed  the  more." 

The  inscrutable  woman  who  caused  such  general 
dismay  in  the  parish  was  an  object  of  much  pity. 
Avoided,  feared,  and  detested,  she  could  find  no  rest 
for  her  weary  feet,  nor  any  shelter  for  her  unpro- 
tected head.  If  she  was  seen  approaching  a  house, 
the  door  and  windows  were  immediately  closed 
i  H 


114  lVei7'd  Tales. 

against  her ;  if  met  on  the  way  she  was  avoided 
as  a  pestilence.  How  she  lived  no  one  could  tell, 
for  none  would  permit  themselves  to  know.  It  was 
asserted  that  she  existed  without  meat  or  drink,  and 
that  she  was  doomed  to  remain  possessed  of  life,  the 
prey  of  hunger  and  thirst,  until  she  could  get  some 
one  weak  enough  to  break  the  spell  by  drinking  her 
hellish  draught,  to  taste  which,  they  said,  would  be 
to  change  places  with  herself,  and  assume  her  despair 
and  misery. 

There  had  lived  in  the  country  about  six  months 
before  her  appearance  in  it,  a  man  named  Stephenson. 
He  was  unmarried,  and  the  last  of  his  family.  This 
person  led  a  solitary  and  secluded  life,  and  exhibited 
during  the  last  years  of  his  existence  strong  symptoms 
of  eccentricity,  which  for  some  months  before  his 
death  assumed  a  character  of  unquestionable  derange- 
ment. He  was  found  one  morning  hanging  by  a 
halter  in  his  own  stable,  where  he  had,  under  the 
influence  of  his  malady,  committed  suicide.  At  this 
time  the  public  press  had  not,  as  now,  familiarized 
the  minds  of  the  people  to  that  dreadful  crime,  and 
it  was  consequently  looked  upon  then  with  an  inten- 
sity of  horror,  of  which  we  can  scarcely  entertain  any 
adequate  notion.  His  farm  remained  unoccupied, 
for  while  an  acre  of  land  could  be  obtained  in  any 
other  quarter,  no  man  would  enter  upon  such 
unhallowed  premises.  The  house  was  locked  up, 
and  it  was  currently  reported  that  Stephenson  and 
the  devil  each  night  repeated  the  hanging  scene  in 
the  stable  ;  and  that  when  the  former  was  committing 
the  "hopeless  sin,"  the  halter  slipped  several  times 


T)ie  Lianha7i  Shee.  115 

from  the  beam  of  the  stable-loft,  when  Satan  came, 
in  the  shape  of  a  dark-complexioned  man  with  a 
hollow  voice,  and  secured  the  rope  until  Stephenson's 
end  was  accomplished. 

In  this  stable  did  the  wanderer  take  up  her  resid- 
ence at  night ;  and  when  we  consider  the  belief  of 
the  people  in  the  night-scenes  which  were  supposed 
to  occur  in  it,  we  need  not  be  surprised  at  the  new 
feature  of  horror  which  this  circumstance  superadded 
to  her  character.  Her  presence  and  appearance  in 
the  parish  were  dreadful  ;  a  public  outcry  was  soon 
raised  against  her,  which,  were  it  not  from  fear  of 
her  power  over  their  lives  and  cattle,  might  have 
ended  in  her  death.  None,  however,  had  courage 
to  grapple  with  her,  or  to  attempt  expelling  her  by 
violence,  lest  a  signal  vengeance  might  be  taken  on 
any  who  dared  to  injure  a  woman  that  could  call  in 
the  terrible  aid  of  the  Lianhan  Shee. 

In  this  state  of  feeling  they  applied  to  the  parish 
priest,  who,  on  hearing  the  marvellous  stories  related 
concerning  her,  and  on  questioning  each  man  closely 
upon  his  authority,  could  perceive  that,  like  most 
other  reports,  they  were  to  be  traced  principally  to 
the  imagination  and  fears  of  the  people.  He  ascer- 
tained, however,  enough  from  Bartley  Sullivan  to 
justify  a  belief  that  there  was  something  certainly 
uncommon  about  the  woman ;  and  being  of  a  cold, 
phlegmatic  disposition,  with  some  humour,  he  desired 
them  to  go  home,  if  they  were  wise — he  shook  his 
head  mysteriously  as  he  spoke — *'and  do  the  woman 
no  injur)',  if  they  didn't  wish" — and  with  this  abrupt 
hint  he  sent  them  about  their  business. 


ii6  Weird  Tales. 

This,  however,  did  not  satisfy  them.  In  the  same 
parish  lived  a  suspended  priest,  called  Father  Philip 
O'Dallaghy,  who  supported  himself,  as  most  of  them 
do,  by  curing  certain  diseases  of  the  people — 
miraculously  !  He  had  no  other  means  of  subsist- 
ence, nor,  indeed,  did  he  seem  strongly  devoted  to 
life,  or  to  the  pleasures  it  afforded.  He  was  not 
addicted  to  those  intemperate  habits  which  characterize 
"  Blessed  Priests  "  in  general ;  spirits  he  never  tasted, 
nor  any  food  that  could  be  termed  a  luxury,  or  even 
a  comfort.  His  communion  with  the  people  was 
brief,  and  marked  by  a  tone  of  severe  contemptuous 
misanthropy.  He  seldom  stirred  abroad  except  dur- 
ing morning,  or  in  the  evening  twilight,  when  he 
might  be  seen  gliding  amidst  the  coming  darkness, 
life  a  dissatisfied  spirit.  His  life  was  an  austere  one, 
and  his  devotional  practices  were  said  to  be  of  the 
most  remorseful  character.  Such  a  man,  in  fact,  was 
calculated  to  hold  a  powerful  sway  over  the  prejudices 
and  superstitions  of  the  people.  This  was  true.  His 
power  was  considered  almost  unlimited,  and  his  life 
one  that  would  not  disgrace  the  highest  saint  in  the, 
calendar.  There  were  not  wanting  some  persons  in 
the  parish  who  hinted  that  Father  Felix  O'Rourke, 
the  parish  priest,  was  himself  rather  reluctant  to 
incur  the  displeasure,  or  challenge  the  power  of  the 
Lianhan  Shee,  by  driving  its  victim  out  of  the  parish. 
The  opinion  of  these  persons  was,  in  its  distinct 
unvarnished  reality,  that  Father  Felix  absolutely 
showed  the  white  feather  on  this  critical  occasion — 
that  he  became  shy,  and  begged  leave  to  decline 
being  introduced  to  this  intractable  pair — seeming  to 


The  Liajihan  S/tee.  117 

intimate  that  he  did  not  at  all  relish  adding  them  to 
the  stock  of  his  acquaintances. 

Father  Philip  they  considered  as  a  decided  contrast 
to  him  on  this  point.  His  stern  and  severe  manner, 
rugged,  and,  when  occasion  demanded,  daring,  they 
believed  suitable  to  the  qualities  requisite  for  sustain- 
ing such  an  interview.  They  accordingly  waited  on 
him  ;  and  after  Hartley  and  his  friends  had  given  as 
faithful  a  report  of  the  circumstances  as,  considering 
all  things,  could  be  expected,  he  told  Bartley  he 
would  hear  from  Mrs.  Sullivan's  own  lips  the 
authentic  narrative.  This  was  quite  satisfactory,  and 
what  was  expected  from  him.  As  for  himself,  he 
appeared  to  take  no  particular  interest  in  the  matter, 
further  than  that  of  allaying  the  ferment  and  alarm 
which  had  spread  through  the  parish. 

"  Plase  your  Reverence,"  said  Bartley,  "she  came 
in  to  Mary,  and  she  alone  in  the  house,  and  for  the 
matther  o'  that,  I  believe  she  laid  hands  upon  her, 
and  tossed  and  tumbled  the  crathur,  and  she  but  a 
sickly  woman,  through  the  four  corners  of  the  house. 
Not  that  Mary  lets  an  so  much,  for  she's  afeard  ;  but 
I  know  from  her  way,  when  she  spakes  about  her, 
that  it's  thruth,  your  Reverence." 

"  But  didn't  the  Liayihan  Shee,'"  said  one  of  them, 
"  put  a  sharp-pointed  knife  to  her  breast,  wid  a 
divilish  intintion  of  makin'  her  give  the  best  of  atin' 
an'  dhrinkin'  the  house  afforded  ?  " 

"She  got  the  victuals,  to  a  sartinty,"  replied 
Bartley,  "and  'overlooked'  my  woman  for  her 
pains  ;  for  she's  not  the  picture  of  herself  since." 

Every  one  now  told  some  magnified  and  terrible 


ii8  Weird  Tales. 

circumstance,  illustrating  the  formidable  power  of  the 
Lianhan  S/iee. 

When  they  had  finished,  the  sarcastic  lip  of  the 
priest  curled  into  an  expression  of  irony  and  con- 
tempt ;  his  brow,  which  was  naturally  black  and 
heavy,  darkened  ;  and  a  keen,  but  rather  a  ferocious- 
looking  eye,  shot  forth  a  glance,  which,  while  it 
intimated  disdain  for  those  to  whom  it  was  directed, 
spoke  also  of  a  dark  and  troubled  spirit  in  himself. 
The  man  seemed  to  brook  with  scorn  the  degrading 
situation  of  a  religious  quack,  to  which  some  uncon- 
trollable destiny  had  doomed  him. 

"I  shall  see  your  wife  to-morrow,"'  said  he  to 
Bartley;  "and  after  hearing  the  plain  account  of 
what  happened,  I  will  consider  what  is  best  to  be 
done  with  this  dark,  perhaps  unhappy,  perhaps  guilty 
character  ;  but  whether  dark,  or  unhappy,  or  guilty, 
I,  for  one,  should  not,  and  will  not,  avoid  her.  Go, 
and  bring  me  word  to-morrow  evening  when  I  can 
see  her  on  the  following  day.     Begone  !  " 

When  they  withdrew,  Father  Phihp  paced  his 
room  for  some  time  in  silence  and  anxiety. 

*'Ay,"  said  he,  "infatuated  people!  sunk  in 
superstition  and  ignorance,  yet,  perhaps,  happier  in 
your  degradation  than  those  who,  in  the  pride  of 
knowledge,  can  only  look  back  upon  a  life  of  crime 
and  misery.  What  is  a  sceptic  ?  What  is  an  infidel  ? 
Men  who,  when  they  will  not  submit  to  moral 
restraint,  harden  themselves  into  scepticism  and 
infidehty,  until,  in  the  headlong  career  of  guilt,  that 
which  was  first  adopted  to  lull  the  outcry  of  con- 
science,   is    supported    by   the    pretended    pride   of 


TJie  Lianhan  Shce.  119 

principle.  Principle  in  a  sceptic  !  Hollow  and 
devilish  lie  !  Would /have  plunged  into  scepticism, 
had  I  not  first  violated  the  moral  sanctions  of  religion? 
Never.  I  became  an  infidel,  because  I  first  became 
a  villain !  Writhing  under  a  load  of  guilt,  that 
which  I  wished  might  be  true,  I  soon  forced  myself 
to  think  true  :  and  now  "—he  here  clenched  his  hands 
and  groaned — "  now — ay,  now — and  hereafter — oh, 
that  hereafter  !  WTiy  can  I  not  shake  the  thoughts 
of  it  from  my  conscience  ?  Religion  !  Christianity  ! 
With  all  the  hardness  of  an  infidel's  heart,  I  feel 
your  truth  ;  because,  if  every  man  were  the  villain  that 
infidelity  would  make  him,  then  indeed  might  every 
man  curse  God  for  the  existence  bestowed  upon  him 
— as  I  would,  but  dare  not  do.  Yet  why  can  I  not 
believe  ?  Alas !  why  should  God  accept  an  unre- 
pentant heart  ?  Am  I  not  a  hypocrite,  mocking  Him 
by  a  guilty  pretension  to  His  power,  and  leading  the 
dark  into  thicker  darkness?  Then  these  hands — 
blood  ! — broken  vows  ! — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Well,  go — 
let  misery  have  its  laugh,  like  the  light  that  breaks 
from  the  thunder-cloud.  Prefer  Voltaire  to  Christ ; 
sow  the  wind,  and  reap  the  whirlwind,  as  I  have 
done — ha,  ha,  ha !  Swim,  world — swim  about  me  ! 
I  have  lost  the  ways  of  Providence,  and  am  dark  ! 
She  awaits  me  ;  but  I  broke  the  chain  that  galled  us  : 
yet  it  still  rankles — still  rankles  !  " 

The  unhappy  man  threw  himself  into  a  chair  in  a 
paroxysm  of  frenzied  agony.  For  more  than  an  hour 
he  sat  in  the  same  posture,  until  he  became  gradually 
hardened  into  a  stiff,  lethargic  insensibility,  callous 
and   impervious   to   feeling,  reason,   or   religion— an 


I20  Weird  Tales. 

awful  transition  from  a  visitation  of  conscience  so 
terrible  as  that  which  he  had  just  suffered.  At 
length  he  arose,  and  by  walking  moodily  about, 
relapsed  into  his  usual  gloomy  and  restless  character. 

When  Bartley  went  home,  he  communicated  to  his 
wife  Father  Philip's  intention  of  calling  on  the  fol- 
lowing day,  to  hear  a  correct  account  of  the  Lianhan 
Shee. 

"Why,  thin,"  said  she,  "I'm  glad  of  it,  for  I 
intinded  myself  to  go  to  him,  any  way,  to  get  my 
new  scapular  consecrated.  How-an'-ever,  as  he's  to 
come,  I'll  get  a  set  of  gospels  for  the  boys  an'  girls, 
an'  he  can  consecrate  all  when  his  hand's  in.  Aroon, 
Bartley,  they  say  that  man's  so  holy  that  he  can  do 
anything — ay,  melt  a  body  off  the  face  o'  the  earth, 
like  snow  off  a  ditch.  Dear  me,  but  the  power  they 
have  is  strange  all  out !  " 

"There's  no  use  in  gettin'  him  anything  to  ate  or 
dhrink,"  replied  Bartley  ;  "  he  wouldn't  take  a  glass  o' 
whisky  once  in  seven  years.  Throth,  myself  thinks 
he's  a  little  too  dhry  ;  sure  he  might  be  holy  enough, 
an'  yet  take  a  sup  of  an  odd  time.  There's  Father 
Felix,  an'  though  we  all  know  he's  far  from  bein'  so 
blessed  a  man  as  him,  yet  he  has  friendship  an' 
neighbourliness  in  him,  an'  never  refuses  a  glass  in 
rason. " 

'  *  But  do  you  know  what  I  was  tould  about  Father 
Philip,  Bartley?" 

"  I'll  tell  you  that  afther  I  hear  it,  Mary,  my 
woman ;  you  won't  expect  me  to  tell  what  I  don't 
know? — ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

"  Behave,   Bartley,   an'  quit   your  jokin'  now,   at 


The  Liajihaii  S/iee.  121 

all  evints ;  keep  it  till  we're  talkin'  of  somethin'  else, 
an'  don't  let  us  be  committin'  si;i,  maybe,  while 
we're  spakin'  of  what  we're  spakin'  about ;  but  they 
say  it's  as  thrue  as  the  sun  to  the  dial : — the  Lent 
afore  last  itself  it  was, — he  never  tasted  mate  or 
dhrink  durin'  the  whole  seven  weeks !  Oh,  you 
needn't  stare  !  it's  well  known  by  thim  that  has  as 
much  sinse  as  you — no,  not  so  much  as  you'd  carry 
on  the  point  o'  this  knittin'-needle.  Well,  sure  the 
housekeeper  an'  the  two  sarvants  wondhered — faix, 
they  couldn't  do  less — an'  took  it  into  their  heads 
to  watch  him  closely ;  an'  what  do  you  think — 
blessed  be  all  the  saints  above  ! — what  do  you  think 
they  seeji  ?  " 

*'  The  Goodness  above  knows  ;  for  me — I  don't." 

"  Why,  thin,  whin  he  was  asleep  they  seen  a  small 
silk  thread  in  his  mouth,  that  came  down  through 
the  ceilin'  from  heaven,  an'  he  suckin'  it,  just  as  a 
child  would  his  mother's  breast  whin  the  crathur  'ud 
be  asleep  :  so  thai  was  the  way  he  was  supported  by 
the  angels  !  An'  I  remimber  myself,  though  he's  a 
dark,  spare,  yallow  man  at  all  times,  yet  he  never 
looked  half  so  fat  an'  rosy  as  he  did  the  same  Lent  ! " 

"  Glory  be  to  Heaven  !  Well,  well — zV  is  sthrange 
the  power  they  have  !  As  for  him,  I'd  as  /ee  meet 
St.  Pether,  or  St.  Pathrick  himself,  as  him  ;  for  one 
can't  but  fear  him,  somehow." 

"  Fear  him  !  Och,  it  'ud  be  the  pity  o'  thim  that 
'ud  do  anything  to  vex  or  anger  that  man.  Why,  his 
veiy  look  'ud  wither  thim,  till  there  wouldn't  be  the 
thrack  o'  thim  on  the  earth  ;  an'  as  for  his  curse,  why 
it  'ud  scorch  thim  to  ashes  !  " 


12  2  Weird  Talcs. 

As  it  was  generally  known  that  Father  Philip  was 
to  visit  Mrs.  Sullivan  the  next  day,  in  order  to  hear 
an  account  of  the  mystery  which  filled  the  parish 
with  such  fear,  a  veiy  great  number  of  the  parishioners 
were  assembled  in  and  about  Bartley's  long  before 
he  made  his  appearance.  At  length  he  was  seen 
walking  slowly  down  the  road,  with  an  open  book  in 
his  hand,  on  the  pages  of  which  he  looked  from  time 
to  time.  When  he  approached  the  house,  those  who 
were  standing  about  it  assembled  in  a  body,  and, 
with  one  consent,  uncovered  their  heads,  and  asked 
his  blessing.  His  appearance  bespoke  a  mind  ill  at 
ease  ;  his  face  was  haggard,  and  his  eyes  bloodshot. 
On  seeing  the  people  kneel,  he  smiled  with  his  usual 
bitterness,  and,  shaking  his  hand  with  an  air  of 
impatience  over  them,  muttered  some  words,  rather 
in  mockery  of  the  ceremony  than  otherwise.  They 
then  rose,  and,  blessing  themselves,  put  on  their  hats, 
rubbed  the  dust  off  their  knees,  and  appeared  to  think 
themselves  recruited  by  a  peculiar  accession  of  grace. 

On  entering  the  house  the  same  form  was  repeated  ; 
and  when  it  was  over,  the  best  chair  was  placed  for 
him  by  Mary's  own  hands,  and  the  fire  stirred  up, 
and  a  line  of  respect  drawn,  within  which  none  was 
to  intrude,  lest  he  might  feel  in  any  degree  incom- 
moded. 

"  My  good  neighbour,"  said  he  to  Mrs.  Sullivan, 
"what  strange  woman  is  this,  who  has  thrown  the 
parish  into  such  a  ferment  ?  I'm  told  she  paid  you  a 
visit  ?     Pray  sit  down. " 

"I  humbly  thank  your  Reverence,"  said  Mary, 
curtseying  lowly,  "but  I'd  rather  not  sit.  Sir,  if  you 


TJie  Liaiihan  Shee.  123 

plase.  I  hope  I  know  what  respect  manes,  your 
Reverence.  Barny  Bradagh,  I'll  thank  you  to  stand 
up,  if  you  plase,  an'  his  Reverence  to  the  fore, 
Barny." 

"I  ax  your  Reverence's  pardon,  an'  yours,  too, 
Mrs.  Sullivan  ;  sure  we  didn't  mane  the  disrespect, 
anyhow.  Sir,  plase  your  Reverence." 

"  About  this  woman,  and  the  Lianhan  Shee,"  said 
the  priest,  without  noticing  Barny 's  apology.  "  Pray 
what  do  you  precisely  understand  by  a  Lianhan 
Shee  ?  " 

"  Why,  Sir,"  replied  Mary,  "  some  sthrange  bein' 
fi-om  the  good  people,  or  fairies,  that  sticks  to  some 
persons.  There's  a  bargain.  Sir,  your  Reverence, 
made  atween  thim  ;  an'  the  divil,  Sir,  that  is,  the 
ould  boy — the  saints  about  us  ! — has  a  hand  in  it. 
The  Lianhan  Shee,  your  Reverence,  is  never  seen 
only  by  thim  it  keeps  wid  ;  but — hem  ! — it  always, 
wid  the  help  of  the  ould  boy,  conthrives,  Sir,  to  make 
the  person  brake  the  agreement,  an'  thin  it  has  thitn 
in  its  power  ;  but  if  they  do7ii  brake  the  agreement, 
thin  it's  in  their  power.  If  they  can  get  anybody 
to  put  in  their  place,  they  may  get  out  o'  the  bargain  ; 
for  they  can,  of  a  sartainty,  give  oceans  o'  money  to 
people,  but  can't  take  any  themselves,  plase  your 
Reverence.  But  sure,  where's  the  use  o'  me  to  be 
tellin'  your  Reverence  what  you  know  betther  nor 
myself? — an'  why  shouldn't  you,  or  any  one  that  has 
the  power  you  have  ?  " 

He  smiled  again  at  this  in  his  own  peculiar  manner, 
and  was  proceeding  to  inquire  more  particularly  into 
the  nature  of  the  interview  between  them,  when  the 


124  Weird  Tales. 

noise  of  feet,  and  sounds  of  general  alarm,  accom- 
panied by  a  rush  of  people  into  the  house,  arrested 
his  attention,  and  he  hastily  inquired  into  the  cause  of 
the  commotion.  Before  he  could  receive  a  reply,  how- 
ever, the  house  was  almost  crowded  ;  and  it  was  not 
without  considerable  difficulty  that,  by  the  exertions 
of  Mrs.  Sullivan  and  Bartley,  sufficient  order  and  quiet 
were  obtained  to  hear  distinctly  what  was  said. 

"  Plase  your  Reverence,"  said  several  voices  at 
once,  "they're  comin',  hot-foot,  into  the  very  house 
to  us  !  Was  ever  the  likes  seen  !  an'  they  must  know 
right  well,  Sir,  that  you're  widin  it." 

*'  Who  are  coming  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Why,  the  woman,  Sir,  ap'  her  good  pet,  the 
Lianhan  Shee,  your  Reverence." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "but  why  should  you  all  appear 
so  blanched  with  terror  ?  Let  her  come  in,  and  we 
shall  see  how  far  she  is  capable  of  injuring  her  fellow- 
creatures  :  some  maniac,"  he  muttered,  in  a  low 
soliloquy,  "whom  the  villany  of  the  world  has  driven 
into  derangement — som.e  victim  to  a  hand  like  m — . 
Well,  they  say  there  is  a  Providence,  yet  such  things 
are  permitted  !  " 

"  He's  sayin'  a  prayer  now,"  observed  one  of  them  ; 
"  haven't  we  a  good  right  to  be  thankful  that  he's  in 
the  place  wid  us  while  she's  in  it,  or  dear  knows  what 
harm  she  might  do  us — maybe  rise  the  wind !  " 

As  the  latter  speaker  concluded,  there  was  a  dead 
silence.  The  persons  about  the  door  crushed  each 
other  backwards,  their  feet  set  out  before  them,  and 
their  shoulders  laid  with  violent  pressure  against 
those  who  stood  behind,  for  each  felt  anxious  to  avoid 


The  LianhajL  S/iee.  1 2  5 

all  danger  of  contact  with  a  being  against  whose 
power  even  a  blessed  priest  found  it  necessary  to 
guard  himself  by  a  prayer. 

At  length  a  low  murmur  ran  among  the  people — 
"Father  O'Rourke  !— here's  Father  O'Rourke  !— he 
has  turned  the  corner  after  her,  an'  they're  both 
coniin'  in."  Immediately  they  entered,  but  it  was 
quite  evident  from  the  manner  of  the  worthy  priest, 
that  he  was  unacquainted  with  the  person  of  this 
singular  being.  When  they  crossed  the  threshold, 
the  priest  advanced,  and  expressed  his  surprise  at  the 
throng  of  people  assembled, 

"  Plase  your  Reverence,"  said  Bartley,  ^Uhafs  the 
woman,"  nodding  significantly  towards  her  as  he 
spoke,  but  without  looking  at  her  person,  lest  the 
evil  eye  he  dreaded  so  much  might  meet  his,  and  give 
him  "the  blast." 

The  dreaded  female,  on  seeing  the  house  in  such 
a  crowded  state,  started,  paused,  and  glanced  with 
some  terror  at  the  persons  assembled.  Her  dress 
was  not  altered  since  her  last  visit ;  but  her  counte- 
nance, though  more  meagre  and  emaciated,  expressed 
but  little  of  the  unsettled  energy  which  then  flashed 
from  her  eyes,  and  distorted  her  features  by  the 
depth  of  that  mysterious  excitement  by  which  she 
had  been  agitated.  Her  countenance  was  still  muffled 
as  before,  the  awful  protuberance  rose  from  her 
shoulders,  and  the  same  band  which  Mrs.  Sullivan 
had  alluded  to  during  their  interview,  was  bound  about 
the  upper  part  of  her  forehead. 

She  had  already  stood  upwards  of  two  minutes, 
during  which  the  fall  of  a  feather  might  be  heard, 


126  Weird  Tales. 

yet  none  bade  God  bless  her — no  kind  hand  was 
extended  to  greet  her — no  heart  warmed  in  affection 
towards  her ;  on  the  contrary,  every  eye  glanced  at 
her,  as  a  being  marked  with  enmity  towards  God. 
Blanched  faces  and  knit  brows,  the  signs  of  fear  and 
hatred,  were  turned  upon  her ;  her  breath  was  con- 
sidered pestilential,  and  her  touch  paralysis.  There 
she  stood,  proscribed,  avoided,  and  hunted  like  a 
tigress,  all  fearing  to  encounter,  yet  wishing  to  ex- 
terminate her  !  Who  could  she  be  ? — or  what  had 
she  done,  that  the  finger  of  the  Almighty  marked 
her  out  for  such  a  fearful  weight  of  vengeance  ? 

Father  Philip  rose  and  advanced  a  few  steps,  until 
he  stood  confronting  her.  His  person  was  tall,  his 
features  dark,  severe,  and  solemn :  and  when  the 
nature  of  the  investigation  about  to  take  place  is 
considered,  it  need  not  be  wondered  at,  that  the 
moment  was,  to  those  present,  one  of  deep  and 
impressive  interest — such  as  a  visible  conflict  between 
a  supposed  champion  of  God  and  a  supernatural 
being  was  calculated  to  excite. 

"Woman,"  said  he,  in  his  deep  stern  voice,  "tell 
me  who  and  what  you  are,  and  why  you  assume  a 
character  of  such  a  repulsive  and  mysterious  nature, 
when  it  can  entail  only  misery,  shame,  and  persecu- 
tion on  yourself?  I  conjure  you,  in  the  name  of 
Him  after  whose  image  you  are  created,  to  speak 
truly  ! " 

He  paused,  and  the  tall  figure  stood  mute  before 
him.  The  silence  was  dead  as  death — every  breath 
was  hushed — and  the  persons  assembled  stood  im- 
movable as  statues  !     Still  she  spoke  not ;   but  the 


Tlic  Lianhan  Shee.  127 

violent  heaving  of  her  breast  evinced  the  internal 
working  of  some  dreadful  struggle.  Her  face  before 
was  pale — it  was  now  ghastly  ;  her  lips  became  blue, 
and  her  eyes  vacant. 

'*  Speak  !"  said  he,  "I  conjure  you  in  the  name 
of  the  power  by  whom  you  live  ! " 

It  is  probable  that  the  agitation  under  which  she 
laboured  was  produced  by  the  severe  effort  made 
to  sustain  the  unexpected  trial  she  had  to  undergo. 

For  some  minutes  her  struggle  continued ;  but 
having  begun  at  its  hightest  pitch,  it  gradually  sub- 
sided until  it  settled  in  a  calmness  which  appeared 
fixed  and  awful  as  the  resolution  of  despair.  With 
breathless  composure  she  turned  round,  and  put  back 
that  part  of  her  dress  which  concealed  her  face,  except 
the  band  on  her  forehead,  which  she  did  not  remove  ; 
having  done  this,  she  turned  again,  and  walked  calmly 
towards  Father  Philip,  with  a  deadly  smile  upon  her 
thin  lips.  \Vhen  within  a  step  of  where  he  stood,  she 
paused,  and  riveting  her  eyes  upon  him,  exclaimed, — 

**\Vho  and  what  am  I  ?  The  victim  of  infidelity 
and  you,  the  bearer  of  a  cursed  existence,  the  scoff 
and  scorn  of  the  world,  the  monument  of  a  broken 
vow  and  a  guilty  life,  a  being  scourged  by  the  scorpion 
lash  of  conscience,  blasted  by  periodical  insanity, 
pelted  by  the  winter's  storm,  scorched  by  the 
summer's  heat,  withered  by  starvation,  hated  by 
man,  and  touched  into  my  inmost  spirit  by  the 
anticipated  tortures  of  future  misery.  I  have  no  rest 
for  the  sole  of  my  foot,  no  repose  for  a  head  distracted 
by  the  contemplation  of  a  guilty  life  ;  I  am  the 
unclean  spirit  which  walketh  to  seek  rest  and  findeth 


128  Weird  Tales. 

none  ;  I  am — what  you  have  made  me!  Behold," 
she  added,  holding  up  the  bottle,  "this  failed,  and  I 
live  to  accuse  you.  But  no,  you  are  my  husband 
— though  our  union  was  but  a  guilty  form,  and  I 
will  bury  that  in  silence.  You  thought  me  dead, 
and  you  flew  to  avoid  punishment ;  did  you  avoid 
it  ?  No  ;  the  finger  of  God  has  written  pain  and 
punishment  upon  your  brow.  I  have  been  in  all 
characters,  in  all  shapes,  have  spoken  with  the 
tongue  of  a  peasant,  moved  in  my  natural  sphere  ; 
but  my  knees  were  smitten,  my  brain  stricken, 
and  the  wild  malady  which  banishes  me  from 
society  has  been  upon  me  for  years.  Such  I  am, 
and  such,  I  say,  have  you  made  me.  As  for  you, 
kind-hearted  woman,  there  was  nothing  in  this  bottle 
but  pure  water.  The  interval  of  reason  returned  this 
day,  and  having  remembered  glimpses  of  our  con- 
versation, I  came  to  apologise  to  you,  and  to  explain 
the  nature  of  my  unhappy  distemper,  and  to  beg  a 
little  bread,  which  I  have  not  tasted  for  two  days. 
I  at  times  conceive  myself  attended  by  an  evil  spirit, 
shaped  out  by  a  guilty  conscience,  and  this  is  the 
only  famihar  which  attends  me,  and  by  it  I  have 
been  dogged  into  madness  through  every  turning  of 
life.  Whilst  it  lasts  I  am  subject  to  spasms  and  con- 
vulsive starts  which  are  exceedingly  painful.  The 
lump  on  my  back  is  the  robe  I  wore  when  innocent 
in  my  peaceful  convent." 

The  intensity  of  general  interest  was  now  trans- 
ferred to  Father  Philip ;  every  face  was  turned  towards 
him,  but  he  cared  not.  A  solemn  stillness  yet  pre- 
vailed among  all  present.     From  the  moment  she 


The  Lianhati  Shee.  T29 

spoke,  her  eye  drew  his  with  the  power  of  a  basilisk. 
His  pale  face  became  like  marble,  not  a  muscle 
moved  ;  and  when  she  ceased  speaking,  his  blood- 
shot eyes  were  still  fixed  upon  her  countenance 
with  a  gloomy  calmness  like  that  which  precedes  a 
tempest.  They  stood  before  each  other,  dreadful 
counterparts  in  guilt,  for  truly  his  spirit  was  as  dark 
as  hers. 

At  length  he  glanced  angrily  around  him  : — 
"Well,"  said  he,  "what  is  it  now,  ye  poor  infatuated 
wretches,  to  trust  in  the  sanctity  of  ?>ian  ?  Learn 
from  me  to  place  the  same  confidence  in  God  which 
you  place  in  His  guilty  creatures,  and  you  will  not 
lean  on  a  broken  reed.  Father  O'Rourke,  you,  too, 
witness  my  disgrace,  but  not  my  punishment.  It  is 
pleasant,  no  doubt,  to  have  a  topic  for  conversation 
at  your  Conferences  ;  enjoy  it.  As  for  you,  Margaret, 
if  society  lessen  misery,  we  may  be  less  miserable. 
But  the  band  of  your  order,  and  the  remembrance 
of  your  vow  is  on  your  forehead,  like  the  mark  of 
Cain — tear  it  off,  and  let  it  not  blast  a  man  who  is 
the  victim  of  prejudice  still,  nay,  of  superstition,  as 
well  as  of  guilt;  tear  it  from  my  sight."  His  eyes 
kindled  fearfully  as  he  attempted  to  pull  it  away  by 
force. 

She  calmly  took  it  off,  and  he  immediately  tore  it 
into  pieces,  and  stamped  upon  the  fragments  as  he 
flung  them  on  the  ground. 

"Come,"  said  the  despairing  man — "come — there 

is  a  shelter  for  you,  but  no  peace  !—{ood,  and  drink, 

and   raiment,   but  no  peace! — NO    peace!"     As   he 

uttered  these  words,  in  a  voice  that  sank  to  its  deepest 

i  I 


130  IVeird  Tales. 

pitch,  he  took  her  hand,  and  they  both  departed  to 
his  own  residence. 

The  amazement  and  horror  of  those  who  were 
assembled  in  Bartley's  house  cannot  be  described. 
Our  readers  may  be  assured  that  they  deepened  in 
character  as  they  spread  through  the  parish.  An 
undefined  fear  of  this  mysterious  pair  seized  upon  the 
people,  for  their  images  were  associated  in  their 
minds  with  darkness  and  crime,  and  supernatural 
communion.  The  departing  words  of  Father  Philip 
rang  in  their  ears :  they  trembled,  and  devoutly 
crossed  themselves,  as  fancy  again  repeated  the 
awful  exclamation  of  the  priest — "No  peace!  no 
peace  ! " 

When  Father  Philip  and  his  unhappy  associate 
went  home,  he  instantly  made  her  a  surrender  of  his 
small  property  ;  but  with  difficulty  did  he  command 
sufficient  calmness  to  accomplish  even  this.  He  was 
distracted — his  blood  seemed  to  have  been  turned  to 
fire — he  clenched  his  hands,  and  he  gnashed  his  teeth, 
and  exhibited  the  wildest  symptoms  of  madness. 
About  ten  o'clock  he  desired  fuel  for  a  large  fire  to 
be  brought  into  the  kitchen,  and  got  a  strong  cord, 
which  he  coiled,  and  threw  carelessly  on  the  table. 
The  family  were  then  ordered  to  bed.  About  eleven 
they  were  all  asleep  ;  and  at  the  solemn  hour  of  twelve 
he  heaped  additional  fuel  upon  the  living  turf,  until  the 
blaze  shone  with  scorching  light  upon  everything 
around.  Dark  and  desolating  was  the  tempest  within 
him,  as  he  paced,  with  agitated  steps,  before  the 
crackling  fire. 

*•  She  is  risen  !  "  he  exclaimed — "  the  spectre  of  all 


The  Liaiihan  Shee.  131 

my  crimes  is  risen  to  haunt  me  through  life  !  I  am  a 
murderer — yet  she  lives,  and  my  guilt  is  not  the  less  ! 
The  stamp  of  eternal  infamy  is  upon  me— the  finger 
of  scorn  will  mark  me  out— the  tongue  of  reproach 
will  sting  me  like  that  of  the  serpent — the  deadly 
touch  of  shame  will  cover  me  like  a  leper — the  laws 
of  society  will  crush  the  murderer,  not  the  less  that 
his  wickedness  in  blood  has  miscarried  :  after  that 
comes  the  black  and  terrible  tribunal  of  the  Almighty's 
vengeance — of  His  fiery  indignation  !  Hush  ! — What 
sounds  are  those  ?  They  deepen — they  deepen  !  Is 
it  thunder  ?  It  cannot  be  the  crackling  of  the  blaze  ! 
It  is  thunder  ! — but  it  speaks  only  to  my  ear  !  Hush  ! 
— Great  God,  there  is  a  change  in  my  voice  !  It  is 
hollow  and  supernatural !  Could  a  change  have 
come  over  me  ?  Am  I  living  ?  Could  I  have — 
Hah  ! — Could  I  have  departed  ?  and  am  I  now  at 
length  given  over  to  the  worm  that  never  dies  ?  If  it 
be  at  my  heart,  I  may  feel  it.  God  ! — I  am  damned  ! 
Here  is  a  viper  twined  about  my  limbs,  trying  to 
dart  its  fangs  into  my  heart  !  Hah  ! — there  are  feet 
pacing  in  the  room,  too,  and  I  hear  voices  !  I  am 
surrounded  by  evil  spirits  !  Who's  there  ? — What 
are  you  ? — Speak  ! — They  are  silent  ! — There  is  no 
answer  !  Again  comes  the  thunder  !  But  perchance 
this  is  not  my  place  of  punishment,  and  I  will  try  to 
leave  these  horrible  spirits  !  " 

He  opened  the  door,  and  passed  out  into  a  small 
green  field  that  lay  behind  the  house.  The  night 
was  calm,  and  the  silence  profound  as  death.  Not  a 
cloud  obscured  the  heavens  ; — the  light  of  the  moon 
fell  upon  the  stillness  of  the  scene  around  him,  with 


132  Weird  Tales. 

all  the  touching  beauty  of  a  moonlit  midnight  in 
summer.  Here  he  paused  a  moment,  felt  his  brow, 
then  his  heart,  the  palpitations  of  which  fell  audibly 
upon  his  ear.  He  became  somewhat  cooler ;  the 
images  of  madness  which  had  swept  through  his 
stormy  brain  disappeared,  and  were  succeeded  by  a 
lethargic  vacancy  of  thought,  which  almost  deprived 
him  of  the  consciousness  of  his  own  identity.  From 
the  green  field  he  descended  mechanically  to  a  little 
glen  which  opened  beside  it.  It  was  one  of  those 
delightful  spots  to  which  the  heart  clingeth.  Its 
sloping  sides  were  clothed  with  patches  of  wood,  on 
the  leaves  of  which  the  moonlight  glanced  with  a  soft 
lustre,  rendered  more  beautiful  by  their  stillness. 
That  side  on  which  the  light  could  not  fall,  lay  in 
deep  shadow,  which  occasionally  gave  to  the  rocks 
and  small  projecting  precipices  an  appearance  of 
monstrous  and  unnatural  life.  Having  passed  through 
the  tangled  mazes  of  the  glen,  he  at  length  reached 
its  bottom,  along  which  ran  a  brook,  such  as,  in  the 
description  of  the  poet, — 


[n  the  leafy  month  of  June, 


Unto  the  sleeping  woods  all  night, 
Singeth  a  quiet  tune." 

Here  he  stood,  and  looked  upon  the  green  winding 
margin  of  the  streamlet — but  its  song  he  heard  not. 
With  the  workings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  the  beautiful 
in  nature  can  have  no  association.  He  looked  up  the 
glen,  but  its  picturesque  windings,  soft  vistas,  and 
wild  underwood  mingling  with  grey  rocks  and  taller 
trees,   all   mellowed   by   the  moon  -  beams,   had  no 


The  Lianhan  Shce.  133 

charms  for  him.  He  maintained  a  profound  silence 
— but  it  was  not  the  silence  of  peace  or  reflection. 
He  endeavoured  to  recall  the  scenes  of  the  past  day, 
but  could  not  bring  them  back  to  his  memory.  Even 
the  fiery  tide  of  thought,  which,  like  burning  lava, 
seared  his  brain  a  few  moments  before,  was  now  cold 
and  hardened.  He  could  remember  nothing.  The 
convulsion  of  his  mind  was  over,  and  his  faculties 
were  impotent  and  collapsed. 

In  this  state  he  unconsciously  retraced  his  steps,  and 
had  again  reached  the  paddock  adjoining  his  house, 
when,  as  he  thought,  the  figure  of  his  paramour  stood 
before  him.  In  a  moment  his  former  paroxysm 
returned,  and  with  it  the  gloomy  images  of  a  guilty 
mind,  charged  with  the  extravagant  horrors  of  brain- 
struck  madness. 

**  What ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  the  band  still  on  your 
forehead  !     Tear  it  off !  " 

He  caught  at  the  form  as  he  spoke,  but  there  was 
no  resistance  to  his  grasp.  On  looking  again  towards 
the  spot,  it  had  ceased  to  be  visible.  The  storm 
within  him  arose  once  more  ;  he  rushed  into  the 
kitchen,  where  the  fire  blazed  out  with  fiercer  heat ; 
again  he  imagined  that  the  thunder  came  to  his  ears, 
but  the  thunderings  which  he  heard  were  only  the 
voice  of  conscience.  Again  his  own  footsteps  and  his 
voice  sounded  in  his  fancy  as  the  footsteps  and 
voices  of  fiends,  with  which  his  imagination  peopled 
the  room.  His  state  and  his  existence  seemed  to  him 
a  confused  and  troubled  dream  ;  he  tore  his  hair — 
threw  it  on  the  table— and  immediately  started  back 
with  a  hollow  groan ;  for  his- locks,  which  but  a  few 


134  Weird  Tales. 

hours  before  had  been  as  black  as  the  raven's  wing, 
were  now  white  as  snow  ! 

On  discovering  this,  he  gave  a  low  but  frantic 
laugh.  "Ha,  ha,  ha!"  he  exclaimed;  "here  is 
another  mark — here  is  food  for  despair.  Silently, 
but  surely,  did  the  hand  of  God  work  this,  as  a  proof 
that  I  am  hopeless  !  But  I  will  bear  it ;  I  will  bear 
the  sight !  I  now  feel  myself  a  man  blasted  by  the 
eye  of  God  Himself !  Ha,  ha,  ha !  Food  for  despair  ! 
Food  for  despair  !  " 

Immediately  he  passed  into  his  own  room,  and 
approaching  the  looking-glass  beheld  a  sight  calcu- 
lated to  move  a  statue.  His  hair  had  become  literally 
white,  but  the  shades  of  his  dark  complexion,  now 
distorted  by  terror  and  madness,  flitted,  as  his  features 
worked  under  the  influence  of  his  tremendous  pas- 
sions, into  an  expression  so  frightful,  that  deep  fear 
came  over  himself.  He  snatched  one  of  his  razors, 
and  fled  from  the  glass  to  the  kitchen.  He  looked 
upon  the  fire,  and  saw  the  white  ashes  lying  around 
its  edge. 

**  Ha!  "said  he,  "the  light  is  come!  I  see  the 
sign.  I  am  directed,  and  I  will  follow  it.  There  is 
yet  ONE  hope.  The  immolation  !  I  shall  be  saved, 
yet  so  as  by  fire.  It  is  for  this  my  hair  has  become 
white ; — the  sublime  warning  for  my  self-sacrifice  ! 
The  colour  of  ashes  ! — white — white  !  It  is  so  I — • 
I  will  sacrifice  my  body  in  material  fire,  to  save  my 
soul  from  that  which  is  eternal  !  But  I  had  antici- 
pated the  Sign  !     The  self-sacrifice  is  accepted  ! " 

We  must  here  draw  a  veil  over  that  which  ensued, 
as  the  description  of  it  would  be  both  unnatural  and 


The  Lian/ian  Shee.  135 

revolting.  Let  it  be  sufficient  to  say,  that  the  next 
morning  he  was  found  burnt  to  a  cinder,  with  the 
exception  of  his  feet  and  legs,  which  remained  as 
monuments  of,  perhaps,  the  most  dreadful  suicide 
that  ever  was  committed  by  man.  His  razor,  too, 
was  found  bloody,  and  several  clots  of  gore  were 
discovered  about  the  hearth ;  from  which  circum- 
stances it  was  plain  that  he  had  reduced  his  strength 
so  much  by  loss  of  blood,  that  when  he  committed 
himself  to  the  flames,  he  was  unable,  even  had  he 
been  willing,  to  avoid  the  fiery  and  awful  sacrifice 
of  which  he  made  himself  the  victim.  If  anything 
could  deepen  the  impression  of  fear  and  awe,  already 
so  general  among  the  people,  it  was  the  unparalleled 
nature  of  his  death.  Its  circumstances  are  yet  re- 
membered in  the  parish  and  county  wherein  it 
occurred^i7r  it  is  no  fiction,  gentle  reader  !  and  the 
titular  bishop  who  then  presided  over  the  diocese 
declared,  that  while  he  lived  no  person  bearing  the 
unhappy  man's  name  should  ever  be  admitted  to  the 
clerical  order. 

The  shock  produced  by  his  death  struck  the 
miserable  woman  into  the  utter  darkness  of  settled 
derangement.  She  survived  him  some  years,  but 
wandered  about  through  the  province,  still,  according 
to  the  superstitious  belief  of  the  people,  tormented  by 
the  terrible  enmity  of  the  Liaiihan  Shee. 


THE   MOUNTAIN  PASS. 

By  Charles  Lever. 

On  the  whole,  the  journey,  to  me,  was  a  delightful 
one,  and  certainly  not  the  least  pleasant  portion  of 
my  life  in  Ireland.  Endowed  —  partly  from  his 
individual  gifts,  partly  from  the  nature  of  his  sacred 
functions — with  influence  over  all  the  humble  ranks 
in  life,  the  good  priest  jogged  along  with  the  assurance 
of  a  hearty  welcome  wherever  he  pleased  to  halt ;  the 
only  look  of  disappointment  being  when  he  declined 
some  proffered  civility,  or  refused  an  invitation  to 
delay  his  journey.  The  chariot  was  well  known  in 
every  town  and  village,  and  scarcely  was  the  rumble 
of  its  wheels  heard  coming  up  the  "street,"  when  the 
population  might  be  seen  assembling  in  little  groups 
and  knots,  to  have  a  word  with  "the  Father  " — to  get 
his  blessing,  to  catch  his  eye,  or  even  obtain  a  nod 
from  him.  He  knew  every  one  and  everything ; 
and,  with  a  tact  which  is  believed  to  be  the  preroga- 
tive of  royalty,  he  never  miscalled  a  name,  nor 
mistook  an  event.  Inquiring  after  them  for  soul  and 
body,  he  entered  with  real  interest  into  all  their  hopes 
and  plans,  their  fears  and  anticipations,  and  talked 
away  about  pigs,  penances,  purgatory,  and  potatoes, 
in  a  way  that  showed  his  information,  on  any  of  these 
matters,  to  be  of  no  mean  or  common  order. 

By  degrees  our  way  left  the  more  travelled  high- 
road, and  took  by  a  mountain  track,  through  a  wild, 

130 


The  Moiintaiii  Pass.  137 

romantic  line  of  country,  beside  the  Shannon.  No 
villages  now  presented  themselves,  and,  indeed,  but 
little  trace  of  any  habitation  whatever  :  large,  mis- 
shapen mountains,  whose  granite  sides  were  scarce 
concealed  by  the  dark  fern,  the  only  vegetation  that 
clothed  them,  rose  around  and  about  us.  In  the 
valleys  some  strips  of  bog  might  be  seen,  with  little 
hillocks  of  newly  cut  turf,  the  only  semblance  of 
man's  work  the  eye  could  rest  on.  Tillage  there  was 
none.  A  dreary  silence,  too,  reigned  throughout.  I 
listened  in  vain  for  the  bleating  of  a  lamb,  or  the 
solitary  tinkle  of  a  sheep-bell  ;  but  no  —  save  the 
cawing  of  the  rooks,  or  the  mournful  cry  of  the  plover, 
I  could  hear  nothing.  Now  and  then,  it  is  true,  the 
heavy  flapping  of  a  strong  wing  would  point  the 
course  of  a  heron  soaring  toward  the  river  ;  but  his 
low  flight  even  spoke  of  solitude,  and  showed  he 
feared  not  man  in  his  wild  and  dreary  mountains. 
At  intervals  we  would  see  the  Shannon  winding 
along,  far,  far  down  below  us  ;  and  I  could  mark 
the  islands  in  the  bay  of  Scarifif,  with  their  ruined 
churches  and  one  solitary  tower ;  but  no  sail  floated 
on  the  surface,  nor  did  an  oar  break  the  sluggish 
current  of  the  stream.  It  was,  indeed,  a  dreary 
scene,  and,  somehow,  my  companion's  manner  seemed 
coloured  by  its  influence ;  for  scarcely  had  we  entered 
the  little  valley  that  led  to  this  mountain  track,  than 
he  became  silent  and  thoughtful,  absorbed  in  reflec- 
tion, and  when  he  spoke,  either  doing  so  at  random, 
or  in  a  vague  and  almost  incoherent  way,  that  showed 
his  ideas  were  wandering. 

I   remarked  that,  as  we  stopped  at  a  little  forge 


138  Weird  Tales. 

shortly  after  daybreak,  the  smith  had  taken  the  priest 
aside  and  whispered  to  him  a  few  words,  at  which  he 
seemed  strangely  moved  ;  and  as  they  spoke  together 
for  some  moments  in  an  undertone,  I  perceived  by 
the  man's  manner  and  gesture,  as  well  as  by  the 
agitation  of  the  good  Father  himself,  that  something 
of  importance  was  being  told.  Without  waiting  to 
finish  the  little  repair  to  the  carriage  which  had 
caused  our  halt,  he  remounted  hastily,  and,  beckoning 
me  to  take  my  place,  drove  on  at  a  pace  that  spoke 
of  haste  and  eagerness.  I  confess  that  my  curiosity 
to  know  the  reason  was  great,  but  as  I  could  not 
with  propriety  ask,  nor  did  my  companion  seem  dis- 
posed to  give  the  information,  I  soon  relapsed  into  a 
silence  unbroken  as  his  own,  and  we  travelled  along 
for  some  miles  without  speaking.  Now  and  then  the 
priest  would  make  an  effort  to  relieve  the  weariness 
of  the  way  by  some  remark  upon  the  scenery,  or 
some  allusion  to  the  wild  grandeur  of  the  pass  ;  but 
it  was  plain  he  spoke  only  from  constraint,  and  that 
his  mind  was  occupied  on  other  and  very  different 
thoughts.  It  was  now  wearing  late,  and  yet  no  trace 
of  any  house  or  habitation  could  I  see  where  to  rest 
for  the  night.  Not  wishing,  however,  to  interrupt 
the  current  of  my  friend's  thoughts,  I  maintained  my 
silence,  straining  my  eyes  on  every  side,  from  the 
dark  mountains  that  towered  above  me,  to  the  narrow 
gloomy  valley  that  lay  several  hundred  feet  beneath 
our  track — but  all  in  vain.  The  stillness  was  un- 
broken, and  not  a  roof,  not  even  a  smoke-wreath, 
could  be  seen,  far  as  the  view  extended. 

The  road  by  which  we  travelled  was  scarped  from 


The  Mountain  Fuss.  139 

the  side  of  a  mountain,  and  for  some  miles  pursued  a 
gradually  descending  course.  On  suddenly  turning 
the  angle  of  rocky  wall  that  skirted  us  for  above  a 
mile,  we  came  in  sight  of  a  long  reach  of  the  Shannon, 
upon  which  the  sun  was  now  setting  in  all  its  golden 
lustre.  The  distant  shore  of  Munster,  rich  in  tillage 
and  pasture-land,  was  lit  up,  too,  with  corn-field  and 
green  meadow,  leafy  wood  and  blue  mountain,  all 
glowing  in  their  brightest  hue.  It  was  a  vivid  and  a 
gorgeous  picture,  and  I  could  have  looked  on  it  long 
with  pleasure,  when  suddenly  I  felt  my  arm  grasped 
by  a  strong  finger.  I  turned  round,  and  the  priest, 
relaxing  his  hold,  pointed  down  into  the  dark  valley 
below  us,  as  he  said,  in  a  low  and  agitated  voice, 
"  You  see  the  light — it  is  there — there."  Quickening 
our  pace  by  every  effort,  we  began  rapidly  to  descend 
the  mountain  by  a  zig-zag  road,  whose  windings  soon 
lost  us  the  view  I  have  mentioned,  and  left  nothing 
but  the  wild  and  barren  mountains  around  us.  Tired 
as  our  poor  horse  was,  the  priest  pressed  him  forward, 
and,  regardless  of  the  broken  and  rugged  way,  he 
seemed  to  think  of  nothing  but  his  haste,  muttering 
between  his  teeth  with  a  low  but  rapid  articulation, 
while  his  face  grew  flushed  and  pale  at  intervals,  and 
his  eye  had  all  the  lustrous  glare  and  restless  look 
of  fever.  I  endeavoured,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  to 
occupy  my  mind  with  other  thoughts,  but  with  that 
invincible  fascination  that  turns  us  ever  to  the  side  we 
try  to  shun,  I  found  myself  again  and  again  gazing  on 
my  companion's  countenance.  Every  moment  now 
his  agitation  increased  ;  his  lips  were  firmly  closed  ; 
his  brow  contracted  ;  his  cheek  flattened,  and  quiver- 


140  Weird  Tales. 

ing  with  a  nervous  spasm,  while  his  hand  trembled 
violently  as  he  wiped  the  big  drops  of  sweat  that 
rolled  in  agony  from  his  forehead. 

At  last  we  reached  the  level,  where  a  better  road 
presented  itself  before  us,  and  enabled  us  so  to 
increase  our  speed  that  we  were  rapidly  coming  up 
with  the  light,  which,  as  the  evening  closed  in, 
seemed  larger  and  brighter  than  before.  It  was  now 
that  hour  when  the  twilight  seems  fading  into  night, 
a  grey  and  sombre  darkness  colouring  every  object, 
but  yet  marking  grass  and  rock,  pathway  and  river, 
with  some  seeming  of  their  noonday  hues,  so  that  as 
we  came  along  I  could  make  out  the  roof  and  walls 
of  a  mud  cabin  built  against  the  very  mountain-side, 
in  the  gable  of  which  the  light  was  shining.  A  rapid, 
a  momentary  thought  flashed  across  my  mind  as  to 
what  dreary  and  solitary  man  could  fix  his  dwelling- 
place  in  such  a  spot  as  this,  when  in  an  instant  the 
priest  suddenly  pulled  up  the  horse,  and,  stretching 
out  one  hand  with  a  gesture  of  listening,  whispered, 
"Hark  ! — did  you  not  hear  that?"  As  he  spoke,  a 
cry,  wild  and  fearful,  rose  through  the  gloomy  valley 
— at  first  in  one  prolonged  and  swelling  note,  then 
broken  as  if  by  sobs,  it  faltered,  sank,  and  rose  again 
wilder  and  madder,  till  the  echoes,  catching  up  the 
direful  sounds,  answered  and  repeated  them  as  though 
a  chorus  of  unearthly  spirits  were  calling  to  each 
other  through  the  air. 

*  *  O  God  !  too  late — too  late  ! "  said  the  priest,  as 
he  bowed  his  face  upon  his  knees,  and  his  strong 
frame  shook  in  agony.  "O  Father  of  mercy!"  he 
cried,   as  he  lifted  his  eyes,  bloodshot  and  tearful, 


The  Mountai7i  Pass.  141 

toward  heaven,  ' '  forgive  me  this — and  if  unshrivcn 
before  Thee " —  Another  cry,  more  frantic  than 
before,  here  burst  upon  us,  and  the  priest,  muttering 
with  rapid  utterance,  appeared  lost  in  prayer.  But 
at  him  I  looked  no  longer,  for  straight  before  us  on 
the  road,  and  in  front  of  the  little  cabin,  now  not 
above  thirty  paces  from  us,  knelt  the  figure  of  a 
woman,  whom,  were  it  not  from  the  fearful  sounds 
we  had  heard,  one  could  scarcely  believe  a  thing  of 
life  ;  her  age  not  more  than  thirty  years  ;  she  was 
pale  as  death  ;  not  a  tinge,  not  a  ray  of  colour 
streaked  her  bloodless  cheek  ;  her  black  hair,  long 
and  wild,  fell  upon  her  back  and  shoulders,  straggling 
and  disordered  ;  her  hands  were  clasped  as  she  held 
her  stiffened  arms  straight  before  her.  Her  dress 
bespoke  the  meanest  poverty,  and  her  sunk  cheek 
and  drawn-in  lips  betokened  famine  and  starvation. 
As  I  gazed  on  her,  almost  breathless  with  awe  and 
dread,  the  priest  leaped  out,  and  hurrying  forward, 
called  out  to  her  in  Irish  ;  but  she  heard  him  not,  she 
saw  him  not — dead  to  every  sense,  she  remained  still 
and  motionless.  No  feature  trembled,  no  limb  was 
shaken  ;  she  knelt  before  us,  like  an  image  of  stone  ; 
and  then,  as  if  by  some  spell  that  worked  within  her, 
once  more  gave  forth  the  heart-rending  cry  we  heard 
at  first.  Now  low  and  plaintive,  like  the  sighing 
night  wind,  it  rose  fuller  and  fuller,  pausing  and 
continuing  at  intervals,  and  then  breaking  into  short 
and  fitful  efforts,  it  grew  wilder  and  stronger,  till  at 
last,  with  one  outbreak,  like  the  overflowing  of  a 
heart  of  misery,  it  ceased  abruptly. 

The  priest  bent  over  her  and  spoke  to  her  ;    he 


142  Weird  Tales. 

called  her  by  her  name,  and  shook  her  several  times 
— but  all  in  vain. 

Her  spirit — if,  indeed,  present  with  her  body — had 
lost  all  sympathy  with  things  of  earth. 

"God  help  her,"  said  he;  "God  comfort  her! 
This  is  sore  affliction." 

As  he  spoke,  he  walked  towards  the  little  cabin, 
the  door  of  which  now  stood  open.  All  was  still  and 
silent  within  its  wall.  Unused  to  see  the  dwellings 
of  the  poor  in  Ireland,  my  eye  ranged  over  the  bare 
walls,  the  damp  and  earthen  floor,  the  few  and  miser- 
able pieces  of  furniture — when  suddenly  my  attention 
was  called  to  another  and  a  sadder  spectacle.  In  one 
corner  of  the  hovel,  stretched  upon  a  bed,  whose 
poverty  might  have  made  it  unworthy  of  a  dog  to 
lie  in,  lay  the  figure  of  a  large  and  powerfully-built 
man,  stone  dead.  His  eyes  were  closed,  and  the  chin 
bound  up  with  a  white  cloth  ;  and  a  sheet,  torn  and 
ragged,  was  stretched  above  his  cold  limbs,  while  on 
either  side  of  him  two  candles  were  burning.  His 
features,  though  rigid  and  stiffened,  were  manly,  and 
even  handsome ;  the  bold  character  of  the  face 
heightened  in  effect  by  his  beard  and  moustache, 
which  appeared  to  have  been  let  grow  for  some  time 
previous,  and  whose  black  and  waving  curl  looked 
darker  from  the  pallor  around  it.  Some  lines  there 
were  about  the  mouth  that  looked  like  harshness  and 
severity,  but  the  struggle  of  departing  life  might  have 
caused  them. 

Gently  withdrawing  the  sheet  that  covered  him,  the 
priest  placed  his  hand  upon  his  heart.  It  was  evident 
to  me  from  his  manner,  that  he  still  believed  him 


TJie  Moimtain  Pass.  143 

living  ;  and  as  he  rolled  back  the  covering  he  felt  for 
his  hand.  Suddenly  starting,  he  fell  back  for  an 
instant,  and  as  he  moved  his  fingers  backwards  and 
forwards,  I  saw  that  they  were  covered  with  blood. 
I  drew  near,  and  now  perceived  that  the  dead  man's 
chest  was  laid  open  by  a  wound  of  several  inches  in 
extent.  The  ribs  had  been  cut  across,  and  some 
portion  of  the  heart  or  lung  seemed  to  protrude.  At 
the  slightest  touch  of  the  body  the  blood  gushed  forth 
anew,  and  ran  in  streams  upon  him.  His  right  hand, 
too,  was  cut  across  the  entire  palm,  the  thumb  nearly 
severed  at  the  joint.  This  appeared  to  have  been 
rudely  bound  together  ;  but  it  was  evident,  from  the 
nature  and  size  of  the  other  wound,  that  he  could  not 
have  survived  it  many  hours. 

As  I  looked  in  horror  at  the  frightful  spectacle 
before  me,  my  foot  struck  at  something  beneath  the 
bed.  I  stooped  down  to  examine,  and  found  it  was 
a  carbine,  such  as  dragoons  usually  carry.  It  was 
broken  at  the  stock,  and  bruised  in  many  places,  but 
still  seemed  not  unserviceable.  Part  of  the  butt-end 
was  also  stained  with  blood.  The  clothes  of  the  dead 
man,  clotted  and  matted  with  gore,  were  also  there, 
adding,  by  their  terrible  testimony,  to  the  dreadful 
fear  that  haunted  me.  Yes,  everything  confirmed  it — 
murder  and  crime  had  been  there.  A  low^  muttering 
sound  near  made  me  turn  my  head,  and  I  saw  the 
priest  kneeling  beside  the  bed,  engaged  in  prayer. 
His  head  was  bare,  and  he  wore  a  kind  of  scarf  of 
blue  silk,  and  the  small  case  that  contained  the  last 
rites  of  his  church  were  placed  at  his  feet. 

Apparently  lost  to  all  around  save  the  figure  of  the 


144  Weird  Tales. 

man  that  lay  dead  before  him,  he  muttered,  with 
ceaseless  rapidity,  prayer  after  prayer,  stopping  ever 
and  anon  to  place  his  hand  on  the  cold  heart,  or  to 
listen,  with  his  ear  upon  the  livid  lips  ;  and  then 
resuming  with  greater  eagerness,  while  the  big  drops 
rolled  from  his  forehead,  and  the  agonizing  torture  he 
felt  convulsed  his  entire  frame. 

*'  O  God  ! "  he  exclaimed,  after  a  prayer  of  some 
minutes,  in  which  his  features  worked  like  one  in  a  fit 
of  epilepsy — "  O  God  !  is  it,  then,  too  late  ?  " 

He  started  to  his  feet  as  he  spoke,  and,  bending 
over  the  corpse,  with  hands  clasped  above  his  head, 
he  poured  forth  a  whole  torrent  of  words  in  Irish, 
swaying  his  body  backwards  and  forwards,  as  his 
voice,  becoming  broken  by  emotion,  now  sunk  into  a 
whisper,  or  broke  into  a  discordant  shout.  *'  Shaun  ! 
Shaun  ! "  cried  he,  as,  stooping  down  to  the  ground, 
he  snatched  up  the  little  crucifix  and  held  it  before 
the  dead  man's  face,  at  the  same  time  he  shook  him 
violently  by  the  shoulder,  and  cried,  in  accents  I  can 
never  forget,  some  words  aloud,  among  which  alone  I 
could  recognise  one  word,  Thea — the  Irish  word  for 
God.  He  shook  him  till  the  head  rocked  heavily 
from  side  to  side,  and  the  blood  oozed  from  the 
opening  wound,  and  stained  the  ragged  covering  of 
the  bed.  At  this  instant  the  priest  stopped  suddenly, 
and  fell  upon  his  knees,  while,  with  a  low,  faint  sigh, 
he  who  seemed  dead  lifted  his  eyes  and  looked  around 
him  ;  his  hands  grasped  the  sides  of  the  bed,  and, 
with  a  strength  that  seemed  supernatural,  he  raised 
himself  to  the  sitting  posture.  His  lips  were  parted 
and  moved,  but  without  a  sound,  and  his  filmy  eyes 


The  Moiuitain  Pass.  145 

turned  slowly  in  their  sockets  from  one  object  to 
another,  till  at  length  they  fell  upon  the  little  crucifix 
that  had  dropped  from  the  priest's  hand  upon  the  bed. 
In  an  instant  the  corpse-like  features  seemed  inspired 
with  life — a  gleam  of  brightness  shot  from  his  eyes — 
the  head  nodded  forward  a  couple  of  times,  and  I 
thought  I  heard  a  discordant,  broken  sound  issue 
from  the  open  mouth,  and,  a  moment  after,  the  head 
dropped  upon  the  chest,  and  the  hands  relaxed,  and 
he  fell  back  with  a  crash,  never  to  move  more. 

Overcome  with  horror,  I  staggered  to  the  door,  and 
sank  upon  a  little  bench  in  front  of  the  cabin.  The 
cool  air  of  the  night  soon  brought  me  to  myself,  and, 
while  in  my  confused  state  I  wondered  if  the  whole 
might  not  be  some  dreadful  dream,  my  eyes  once 
more  fell  upon  the  figure  of  the  woman,  who  still 
knelt  in  the  attitude  we  had  first  seen  her.  Her 
hands  were  clasped  before  her,  and  from  time  to  time 
her  wild  cry  rose  into  the  air,  and  woke  the  echoes  of 
that  silent  valley.  A  faint  moonlight  lay  in  broken 
patches  around  her,  and  mingled  its  beams  with  the 
red  glare  of  the  little  candles  within,  as  their  light  fell 
upon  her  marble  features.  From  the  cabin  I  could 
hear  the  sounds  of  the  priest's  voice,  as  he  continued 
to  pray  without  ceasing.  As  the  hours  rolled  on 
nothing  changed,  and  when,  prompted  by  curiosity, 
I  looked  within  the  hovel,  I  saw  the  priest  still 
kneeling  beside  the  bed,  his  face  pale  and  sunk  and 
haggard,  as  though  months  of  sickness  and  suffering 
had  passed  over  him. 

I  dared  not  speak — I  dared  not  disturb  him,  and  I 
sat  down  near  the  door  in  silence. 

i  K 


146  Weird  Tales. 

It  is  one  of  the  strange  anomalies  of  our  nature  that 
the  feelings  which  rent  our  hearts  with  agony  have  a 
tendency,  by  their  continuance,  to  lull  us  into  slumber. 
The  watcher  by  the  bedside  of  his  dying  friend — the 
felon  in  his  cell,  but  a  few  hours  before  death — sleep, 
and  sleep  soundly.  The  bitterness  of  grief  would 
seem  to  blunt  sensation,  and  the  mind,  like  the  body, 
can  only  sustain  a  certain  amount  of  burden,  after 
which  it  succumbs  and  yields.  So  I  found  it  amid  this 
scene  of  horror  and  anguish,  with  everything  to  excite 
that  can  operate  upon  the  mind — the  woman  stricken 
motionless  and  senseless  by  grief — the  dead  man,  as 
it  were,  recalled  to  life  by  the  words  that  were  to 
herald,  him  into  life  everlasting — the  old  man,  whom 
I  had  known  but  as  a  gay  companion,  displayed  now 
before  my  eyes  in  all  the  workings  of  his  feeling  heart, 
called  up  by  the  afflictions  of  one  world  and  the 
terrors  of  another, — and  this  in  a  wild  and  dreary 
valley,  far  from  man's  dwelling.  Yet,  amid  all  this, 
and,  more  than  all,  the  harassing  conviction  that 
some  deed  of  blood,  some  dark  hour  of  crime  had 
been  here  at  work,  perhaps  to  be  concealed  for  ever, 
and  go  unavenged,  save  of  Heaven — and  yet,  with 
this  around  and  about  me,  I  slept.  How  long  I 
know  not  ;  but  when  I  woke  the  mist  of  morning 
hung  in  the  valley,  or  rolled  in  masses  of  cloud-like 
vapour  along  the  mountain-side.  In  an  instant  the 
whole  scene  of  the  previous  night  was  before  me,  and 
the  priest  still  knelt  beside  the  bed  and  prayed.  I 
looked  for  the  woman,  but  she  was  gone. 

Tlie  noise  of  wheels  at  some  distance  could  now 
be  heard  on   the   mountain  road,  and,  as  I  walked 


The  Mountain  Pass.  147 

stealthily  from  the  door,  I  could  see  three  figures 
descending  the  path,  followed  by  a  car  and  horse.  As 
they  came  along,  I  marked  that  beneath  the  straw  on 
the  car  something  protruded  itself  on  either  side,  and 
this  I  soon  saw  was  a  coffin.  As  the  men  approached 
the  angle  of  the  road  they  halted,  and  seemed  to 
converse  in  an  eager  and  anxious  manner,  when 
suddenly  one  of  them  broke  from  the  others,  and. 
springing  to  the  top  of  a  low  wall  that  skirted  the 
road,  continued  to  look  steadily  at  the  house  for  some 
minutes  together.  The  thought  flashed  on  me  at  the 
moment  that  perhaps  my  being  a  stranger  to  them 
might  have  caused  their  hesitation,  so  I  waved  my 
hat  a  couple  of  times  above  my  head.  Upon  this 
they  resumed  their  march,  and  in  a  few  minutes  more 
were  standing  beside  me.  One  of  them,  who  was 
an  old  man,  with  hard,  weather-beaten  features, 
addressed  me,  first  in  Irish,  but,  correcting  himself 
at  once,  asked,  in  a  low,  steady  voice, — 

"  Was  the  priest  in  time  ?     Did  he  get  the  rites  ?  " 

I  nodded  in  reply  ;  when  he  muttered,  as  if  to 
himself, — 

"  God's  will  be  done.  Shaun  didn't  tell  of 
Hogan  " — 

"Whist  !  father — whist  !  "  said  one  of  the  younger 
men,  as  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  old  man's  arm  ; 
while  he  added  something  in  Irish,  gesticulating  with 
energy  as  he  spoke. 

*'  Is  Mary  come  back,  sir?  "  said  the  third,  as  he 
touched  his  hat  to  me  respectfully. 

*' The  woman— his  wife?"  said  I;  "I  have  not  seen 
her  to-day." 


148  Weird  Tales. 

"  She  was  up  with  us  at  Kiltimmon,  at  two  o'clock 
this  morning,  but  wouldn't  wait  for  us.  She  wanted 
to  get  back  at  once,  poor  crayture.  She  bears  it  well, 
and  has  the  stout  heart.  Faith,  maybe  before  long 
she'll  make  some  others  faint  in  their  hearts,  that 
have  stricken  hers  this  night." 

"  Was  she  calm,  then  ?  "  said  I. 

'*  As  you  are  this  minute  ;  and  sure  enough  she 
helped  me  with  her  own  hands  to  put  the  horse  in  the 
car  ;  for  you  see  I  couldn't  lift  the  shaft  with  my 
one  arm." 

I  now  saw  that  his  arm  was  bound  up,  and  buttoned 
within  the  bosom  of  his  greatcoat. 

The  priest  now  joined  us,  and  spoke  for  several 
minutes  in  Irish ;  and  although  ignorant  of  all  he 
said,  I  could  mark  in  the  tone  of  his  voice,  his  look, 
his  manner,  and  his  gesture,  that  his  words  were 
those  of  rebuke  and  reprobation.  The  old  man  heard 
him  in  silence,  but  without  any  evidence  of  feeling. 
The  others,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  deeply  affected, 
and  the  younger  of  the  two,  whose  arm  was  broken, 
seemed  greatly  moved,  and  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
hardy  cheeks. 

These  signs  of  emotion  were  evidently  displeasing 
to  the  old  man,  whose  nature  was  of  a  sterner  and 
.  more  cruel  mould  ;  and,  as  he  turned  away  from  the 
Father's  admonition,  he  moved  past  me,  muttering  as 
he  went, — 

"  Isn't  it  all  fair? — blood  for  blood  ;  and  sure  they 
dhruv  him  to  it." 

After  a  few  words  from  the  priest,  two  of  the  party 
took  their  spades  from  the  car,  and  began  digging  the 


The  Mountain  Pass.  149 

grave  ;  while  Father  Loftus,  leading  the  other  aside, 
talked  to  him  for  some  time. 

"  Begorra,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  shovelled  the 
earth  to  either  side,  "Father  Tom  isn't  like  himself, 
at  all,  at  all.  He  used  to  have  pity,  and  the  kind 
word  for  the  poor  when  they  were  turned  out  on  the 
world  to  starve,  without  as  much  as  a  sheaf  of  straw 
to  lie  upon,  or  potatoes  enough  for  the  children  to  eat." 

"Whisht,  father,  or  the  priest  will  hear  ye,"  said 
the  younger  one,  looking  cautiously  around. 

*'  Sorrow  bit  o'  me  cares  ;  if  he  does,  it's  thruth 
I'm  telling.  You  are  not  long  in  these  parts,  sir,  av 
I  may  make  so  bowld  ?  " 

**  No,"  said  I,  **  I'm  quite  a  stranger." 

"Well,  anyhow  ye  may  understand  that  this  isn't 
a  fine  soil  for  a  potato  garden  ;  and  yet  the  devil  a 
other  poor  Shaun  had,  since  they  turned  him  out  on 
the  road  last  Michaelmas  day,  himself,  and  his  wife, 
and  the  little  gossoon — the  only  one  they  had,  too — 
with  a  fever  and  hague  upon  him.  The  poor  child, 
however,  didn't  feel  it  long,  for  he  died  ten  days 
after.  Well,  well !  the  ways  of  God  there's  no  saying 
against.  But  sure,  if  the  little  boy  didn't  die,  Shaun 
was  off  to  America,  for  he  tuk  his  passage,  and  got  a 
sea-chest  of  a  friend,  and  was  all  ready  to  go  ;  but, 
you  see,  when  the  child  died  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  leave  the  grave,  and  there  he  used  to  go 
and  spend  half  of  his  days  fixing  it,  and  settling  the 
sod  about  it,  and  wouldn't  take  a  day's  work  from 
any  of  the  neighbours ;  and  at  last  he  went  off  one 
night,  and  we  never  knew  what  was  become  of  him 
till  a  pedlar  brought  word   that  he  and  Mary  was 


150  Weird  Tales. 

living  in  the  Cluan  Beg,  away  from  everybody, 
without  a  friend  to  say  '  God  save  you  ! ' — It's  deep 
enough  now,  Mickey — there's  nobody  will  turn  him 
out  of  this.  And  so,  sir,  he  might  have  lived  for 
many  a  year  ;  but  when  we  heard  that  the  boys 
was  up,  and  going  to  settle  a  reckoning  with  Mr. 
Tarleton  " — 

"  Come,  now,"  cried  the  priest,  who  joined  us  at 
the  moment,  and  who,  from  his  look,  I  could  perceive 
was  evidently  displeased  at  the  old  man's  communi- 
cativeness— "  come,  now,  the  sooner  you  all  get  back 
the  better.  We  must  look  after  Mary,  too,  for  God 
knows  where  she  is  wandering.  And  now  let  us  put 
the  poor  boy  in  the  earth." 

With  slow  and  sullen  steps  the  old  man  entered  the 
house,  followed  by  the  others.  I  did  not  accompany 
them,  but  stood  beside  the  grave,  my  mind  full  of  all 
I  heard.  In  a  few  minutes  they  returned,  carrying 
the  coffin,  one  corner  of  which  was  borne  by  the 
priest  himself.  Their  heads  were  bare,  and  their 
features  were  pale  and  careworn.  They  placed  the 
body  in  the  grave,  and  gazed  down  after  it  for  some 
seconds.  The  priest  spoke  a  few  words  in  a  low, 
broken  voice,  the  very  sounds  of  which,  though  their 
meaning  was  unknown  to  me,  sunk  deep  into  my 
heart.  He  whispered  for  an  instant  to  one  of  the 
young  men,  who  went  into  the  cabin,  and  speedily 
returned,  carrying  with  him  some  of  the  clothes  of 
the  deceased,  and  the  old  carbine  that  lay  beneath 
the  bed. 

"  Throw  them  in  the  grave,  Mickey — throw  them 
in,"  said  the  priest.     *'  Where's  his  coat  ?  " 


TJie  Mountain  Pass.  151 

"  It  isn't  there,  sir,"  said  the  man.  '*  That's 
everything  that  has  a  mark  of  blood  upon  it. " 

**  Give  me  that  gun,"  cried  the  priest  ;  and  at  the 
same  moment  he  took  the  carbine  by  the  end  of  the 
barrel,  and  by  one  stroke  of  his  strong  foot  snapped  it 
at  the  breech.  "  My  curse  be  on  you,"  said  he,  as 
he  kicked  the  fragments  into  the  grave  ;  "  there  was 
peace  and  happiness  in  the  land  before  men  knew  ye, 
and  owned  ye  !  Ah  !  Hugh,"  said  he,  turning  his 
eyes  fiercely  on  the  old  man,  "  I  never  said  ye  hadn't 
griefs  and  trials,  and  sore  ones,  too,  some  of  them  ; 
but,  God  help  ye,  if  ye  think  that  an  easy  conscience 
and  a  happy  home  can  be  bought  by  murder."  The 
old  man  started  at  the  words,  and  as  his  dark  brow 
lowered,  and  his  lip  trembled,  I  drew  near  to  the 
priest,  fearful  lest  an  attack  might  be  made  on  him. 
"  Ay,  murder,  boys — that's  the  word,  and  no  less. 
Don't  tell  me  about  righting  yourselves,  and  blood  for 
blood,  and  all  that.  There's  a  curse  upon  the  land 
where  these  things  happen,  and  the  earth  is  not  lucky 
that  is  moistened  with  the  blood  of  God's  creatures. " 

"  Cover  him  up — cover  him  up  !  "  said  the  old 
man,  shovelling  in  the  earth,  so  as  to  drown  the 
priest's  words ;  "and  let  us  be  going.  We  ought  to 
be  back  by  six  o'clock,  unless,"  added  he,  with  a 
sarcastic  bitterness  that  made  him  look  like  a  fiend — 
"  unless  your  Reverence  is  going  to  set  tlie  police  on 
our  track." 

*'  God  forgive  you,  Hugh,  and  turn  your  heart," 
said  the  old  man,  as  he  shook  his  outstretched  hands 
at  him.  As  he  spoke  these  words  he  took  me  by  the 
arm,  and  led  me  within  the  house.     I  could  feel  his 


152  IVeii'd  Tales. 

hand  tremble  as  it  leaned  upon  me,  and  the  big  tears 
rolled  down  his  cheeks  in  silence. 

We  sat  down  in  the  little  cabin,  but  neither  of  us 
spoke.  After  some  time  we  heard  the  noise  of  the 
cart-wheels,  and  the  sound  of  voices,  which  grew 
fainter  and  fainter  as  they  passed  up  the  glen,  and  at 
length  all  became  still. 

"  And  the  poor  wife,"  said  I ;  "  what,  think  you, 
has  became  of  her  ?  " 

"  Gone  home  to  her  people,  most  likely,"  answered 
the  priest.  "  Her  misfortunes  will  make  her  a  home 
in  every  cabin.  None  so  poor,  none  so  wretched,  as 
not  to  succour  and  shelter  her.     But  let  us  hence." 

We  walked  forth  from  the  hovel,  and  the  priest, 
closing  the  door  after  him,  fastened  it  with  a  padlock 
that  he  found  within,  and  then  placing  the  key  upon 
the  door -sill  he  turned  to  depart  —  but,  suddenly 
stopping,  he  took  my  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  said, 
in  a  voice  of  touching  earnestness,— 

"  This  has  been  a  sad  scene.  Would  to  God  you 
had  not  witnessed  it.  Would  to  God,  rather,  that  it 
might  not  have  occurred.  But  promise  me,  on  the 
faith  of  a  man  of  honour,  and  the  word  of  a  gentle- 
man, that  what  you  have  seen  this  night  you  reveal 
to  no  man,  until  I  have  passed  away  myself,  and 
stand  before  that  judgment  to  which  we  all  are 
coming." 

'*  I  promise  you  faithfully,"  said  I.  "And  now 
let  us  leave  a  spot  that  has  thrown  a  gloom  upon  my 
heart  a  lifelong  will  never  obliterate." 


THE  BANSHEE. 

Of  all  the  superstitions  prevalent  amongst  the  natives 
of  Ireland  at  any  period,  past  or  pi-esent,  there  is  none 
so  grand  or  fanciful,  none  which  has  been  so  univer- 
sally assented  to,  or  so  cordially  cherished,  as  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  the  Banshee.  There  are 
very  few,  however  remotely  acquainted  with  Irish 
life  or  Irish  history,  but  must  have  heard  or  read  of 
the  Irish  banshee ;  still,  as  there  are  different  stories 
and  different  opinions  afloat  respecting  this  strange 
being,  I  think  a  little  explanation  concerning  her 
appearance,  functions,  and  habits  will  not  be  unaccept- 
able to  my  readers.  The  banshee,  then,  is  snid  to  be 
an  immaterial  and  immortal  being,  attached,  time  out 
of  mind,  to  various  respectable  and  ancient  families 
in  Ireland,  and  is  said  always  to  appear  to  announce, 
by  cries  and  lamentations,  the  death  of  any  member 
of  that  family  to  which  she  belongs.  She  always 
comes  at  night,  a  short  time  previous  to  the  death  of 
the  fated  one,  and  takes  her  stand  outside,  convenient 
to  the  house,  and  there  utters  the  most  plaintive  cries 
and  lamentations,  generally  in  some  unknown  language, 
and  in  a  tone  of  voice  resembling  a  human  female. 
She  continues  her  visits  night  after  night,  unless 
vexed  or  annoyed,  until  the  mourned  object  dies,  and 
sometimes  she  is  said  to  continue  about  the  house  for 
several  nights  after.  Sometimes  she  is  said  to  appear 
153 


154  Weird  Tales. 

in  the  shape  of  a  most  beautiful  young  damsel,  and 
dressed  in  the  most  elegant  and  fantastic  garments ; 
but  her  general  appearance  is  in  the  likeness  of  a  very 
old  woman,  of  small  stature,  and  bending  and  decrepit 
form,  enveloped  in  a  winding-sheet  or  grave-dress, 
and  her  long,  white,  hoary  hair  waving  over  her 
shoulders  and  descending  to  her  feet.  At  other  times 
she  is  dressed  in  the  costume  of  the  middle  ages — the 
different  articles  of  her  clothing  being  of  the  richest 
material  and  of  a  sable  hue.  She  is  very  shy,  and 
easily  irritated,  and,  when  once  annoyed  or  vexed, 
she  flies  away,  and  never  returns  during  the  same 
generation.  When  the  death  of  the  person  whom 
she  mourns  is  contingent,  or  to  occur  by  unforeseen 
accident,  she  is  particularly  agitated  and  troubled  in 
her  appearance,  and  unusually  loud  and  mournful  in 
her  lamentations.  Some  would  fain  have  it  that  this 
strange  being  is  actuated  by  a  feeling  quite  inimical 
to  the  interests  of  the  family  which  she  haunts,  and 
that  she  comes  with  joy  and  triumph  to  announce 
their  misfortunes.  This  opinion,  however,  is  rejected 
by  most  people,  who  imagine  her  their  most  devoted 
friend,  and  that  she  was,  at  some  remote  period,  a 
member  of  the  family,  and  once  existed  on  the  earth 
in  life  and  loveliness.  It  is  not  every  Irish  family  can 
claim  the  honour  of  an  attendant  banshee  ;  they  must 
be  respectably  descended,  and  of  ancient  line,  to  have 
any  just  pretensions  to  a  warning  spirit.  However, 
she  does  not  appear  to  be  influenced  by  the  difference 
of  creed  or  clime,  provided  there  be  no  other  impedi- 
ment, as  several  Protestant  families  of  Norman  and 
Anglo-Saxon  origin  boast  of  their  own  banshee  ;  and 


The  Banshee.  155 

to  this  hour  several  noble  and  distinguished  families 
in  the  country  feel  proud  of  the  surveillance  of  that 
mysterious  being.  Neither  is  she  influenced  by  the 
circumstances  of  rank  or  fortune,  as  she  is  oftener 
found  frequenting  the  cabin  of  the  peasant  than  the 
baronial  mansion  of  the  lord  of  thousands.  Even  the 
humble  family  to  which  the  writer  of  this  tale  belongs 
has  long  claimed  the  honourable  appendage  of  a 
banshee ;  and  it  may,  perhaps,  excite  an  additional 
interest  in  my  readers,  when  I  inform  them  that  my 
present  story  is  associated  with  her  last  visit  to  that 
family. 

Some  years  ago  there  dwelt  in  the  vicinity  of 
Mountrath,  in  the  Queen's  County,  a  farmer,  whose 
name  for  obvious  reasons  we  shall  not  at  present 
disclose.  He  never  was  married,  and  his  only  domes- 
tics were  a  servant  boy  and  an  old  woman,  a  house- 
keeper, who  had  long  been  a  follower  or  dependant 
of  the  family.  He  was  born  and  educated  in  the 
Roman  Catholic  Church,  but  on  arriving  at  manhood, 
for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  he  abjured  the 
tenets  of  that  creed,  and  conformed  to  the  doctrines 
of  Protestantism.  However,  in  after  years  he  seemed 
to  waver,  and  refused  going  to  church,  and  by  his 
manner  of  living  seemed  to  favour  the  dogmas  of 
Infidelity  or  Atheism.  He  was  rather  dark  and 
reserved  in  his  manner,  and  oftentimes  sullen  and 
gloomy  in  his  temper ;  and  this,  joined  with  his 
well-known  disregard  of  religion,  served  to  render 
him  somewhat  unpopular  amongst  his  neighbours 
and  acquaintances.  However,  he  was  in  general 
respected,  and  was  never  insulted  or  annoyed.     He 


156  Weird  Tales. 

was  considered  as  an  honest,  inoffensive  man,  and  as 
he  was  well  supplied  with  fire-arms  and  ammunition 
— in  the  use  of  which  he  was  well  practised,  having, 
in  his  early  days,  served  several  years  in  a  yeomanry 
corps — few  liked  to  disturb  him,  even  had  they  been 
so  disposed.  He  was  well  educated,  and  decidedly 
hostile  to  every  species  of  superstition,  and  was  con- 
stantly jeering  his  old  housekeeper,  who  was  extremely 
superstitious,  and  pretended  to  be  entirely  conversant 
with  every  matter  connected  with  witchcraft  and  the 
fairy  world.  He  seldom  darkened  a  neighbour's 
door,  and  scarcely  ever  asked  any  one  to  enter  his, 
but  generally  spent  his  leisure  hours  in  reading,  of 
which  he  was  extremely  fond,  or  in  furbishing  his 
fire-arms,  to  which  he  was  still  more  attached,  or  in 
listening  to,  and  laughing  at,  the  wild  and  blood- 
curdling stories  of  old  Moya,  with  which  her  memory 
abounded.  Thus  he  spent  his  time  until  the  period 
at  which  our  tale  commences,  when  he  was  about  fifty 
years  of  age  ;  and  old  Moya,  the  housekeeper,  had 
become  extremely  feeble,  stooped,  and  of  very  ugly 
and  forbidding  exterior.  One  morning  in  the  month 
of  November,  a.d.  18 18,  this  man  arose  before  day- 
light, and  on  coming  out  of  the  apartment  where  he 
slept,  he  was  surprised  at  finding  old  Moya  in  the 
kitchen,  sitting  over  the  raked-up  fire,  and  smoking 
her  tobacco-pipe  in  a  very  serious  and  meditative 
mood. 

"  Arrah,  Moya,"  said  he,  "  what  brings  you  out  of 
your  bed  so  early  ?  " 

"  Och  musha,  I  dunna,"  replied  the  old  woman  ; 
"  1  was  so  uneasy  all  night  that  I  could  not  sleep  a 


The  Banshee.  157 

wink,  and  I  got  up  to  smoke  a  blast,  thinkin'  thai  it 
might  drive  away  the  weight  that's  on  my  heart." 

"  And  what  ails  you,  Moya? — are  you  sick,  or  what 
came  over  you  ?  " 

*'  No,  the  Lord  be  prais'd,  I  am  not  sick,  but  my 
heart  is  sore,  and  there's  a  load  on  my  spirits  that 
would  kill  a  hundred." 

"  Maybe  you  were  dreaming,  or  something  that 
way,"  said  the  man  in  a  bantering  tone  ;  and  sus- 
pecting, from  the  old  woman's  grave  manner,  that 
she  was  labouring  under  some  mental  delusion. 

"  Dreaming  !"  re-echoed  Moya,  with  a  bitter  sneer  ; 
"ay,  dreaming.  Och,  I  wish  to  God  I  was  only 
dreaming ;  but  I  am  very  much  afraid  it  is  worse  than 
that,  and  that  there  is  trouble  and  misfortune  hanging 
over  uz." 

"And  what  makes  you  think  so,  jNIoya? "  asked 
he,  with  a  half-suppressed  smile. 

Moya,  aware  of  his  well-known  hostility  to  every 
species  of  superstition,  remained  silent,  biting  her 
lips,  and  shaking  her  grey  head  prophetically. 

"Why  don't  you  answer  me,  Moya?"  again  asked 
the  man. 

"  Och,"  said  Moya,  "I  am  heart-scalded  to  have 
it  to  tell  you,  and  I  know  you  will  laugh  at  me  ;  but, 
say  what  you  will,  there  is  something  bad  over  uz,  for 
the  banshee  was  about  the  house  all  night,  and  she 
has  me  almost  frightened  out  of  my  wits  with  her 
shouting  and  bawling." 

The  man  was  aware  of  the  banshee's  having  been 
long  supposed  to  haunt  his  family,  but  often  scouted 
that  supposition  ;  yet,  as  it  was  some  years  since  he 


158  Weird  Tales. 

had  last  heard  of  her  visiting  the  place,  he  was  not 
prepared  for  the  freezing  announcement  of  old  Moya. 
He  turned  as  pale  as  a  corpse,  and  trembled  exces- 
sively ;  at  last,  recollecting  himself,  he  said,  with  a 
forced  smile, — 

*'  And  how  do  you  know  it  was  the  banshee, 
Moya?" 

•' How  do  I  know?"  reiterated  Moya  tauntingly. 
"  Didn't  I  see  and  hear  her  several  times  during  the 
night  ?  and  more  than  that,  didn't  I  hear  the  '  dead- 
coach  '  rattling  round  the  house,  and  through  the 
yard,  every  night  at  midnight  this  week  back,  as  if  it 
would  tear  the  house  out  of  the  foundation  ?  " 

The  man  smiled  faintly  ;  he  was  frightened,  yet  was 
ashamed  to  appear  so.     He  again  said, — 

"And  did  you  ever  see  the  banshee  before,  Moya?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Moya,  "often.  Didn't  I  see  her 
when  your  mother  died  ?  Didn't  I  see  her  when  your 
brother  was  drowned  ? — and  sure  there  wasn't  one  of 
the  family  that  went  these  sixty  years  that  I  did  not 
both  see  and  hear  her." 

"And  where  did  you  see  her?  and  what  way  did 
she  look  to-night  ? ' ' 

"  I  saw  her  at  the  little  window,  over  my  bed  ;  a 
kind  of  reddish  light  shone  round  the  house  ;  I  looked 
up,  and  there  I  saw  her  old,  pale  face  and  glassy 
eyes  looking  in,  and  she  rocking  herself  to  and  fro, 
and  clapping  her  little,  withered  hands,  and  crying  as 
if  her  very  heart  would  break." 

"  Well,  Moya,  it's  all  imagination ;  go,  now,  and 
prepare  my  breakfast,  as  I  want  to  go  to  Maryborough 
to-day,  and  I  must  be  home  early." 


The  Banshee.  159 

Moya  trembled  ;  she  looked  at  him  imploringly, 
and  said,  "For  Heaven's  sake,  John,  don't  go  to-day; 
stay  till  some  other  day,  and  God  bless  you,  for  if  you 
go  to-day,  I  would  give  my  oath  there  will  something 
cross  you  that's  bad." 

"  Nonsense,  woman  !  "  said  he  ;  "  make  haste  and 
get  me  my  breakfast." 

Moya,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  set  about  getting  the 
breakfast  ready ;  and  whilst  she  was  so  employed, 
John  was  engaged  in  making  preparations  for  his 
journey. 

Having  now  completed  his  other  arrangements,  he 
sat  down  to  breakfast,  and,  having  concluded  it,  he 
arose  to  depart. 

Moya  ran  to  the  door,  crying  loudly ;  she  flung 
herself  on  her  knees,  and  said,  "John,  John,  be 
advised.  Don't  go  to-day  ;  take  my  advice  ;  I  know 
more  of  the  world  than  you  do,  and  I  see  plainly  that 
if  you  go  you  will  never  enter  this  door  again  with 
your  life. 

Ashamed  to  be  influenced  by  the  drivellings  of  an 
old  colloiigh,  he  pushed  her  away  with  his  hand,  and, 
going  out  to  the  stable,  mounted  his  horse,  and  de- 
parted. Moya  followed  him  with  her  eyes  whilst  in 
sight ;  and  when  she  could  no  longer  see  him,  she  sat 
down  at  the  fire  and  wept  bitterly. 

It  was  a  bitter  cold  day,  and  the  farmer,  having 
fmished  his  business  in  town,  feeling  himself  chilly, 
went  into  a  public-house  to  have  a  tumbler  of  punch, 
and  feed  his  horse  :  there  he  met  an  old  friend,  who 
would  not  part  with  him  until  he  would  have  another 
glass  with  him,  and  a  little  conversation,  as  it  was 


i6o  Weird  Tales. 

many  years  since  they  had  met  before.  One  glass 
brought  another,  and  it  was  almost  duskish  ere  John 
thought  of  returning,  and  having  nearly  ten  miles  to 
travel,  it  would  be  dark  night  before  he  could  get 
home.  Still  his  friend  would  not  permit  him  to  go, 
but  called  for  more  liquor,  and  it  was  far  advanced  in 
the  night  before  they  parted.  John,  however,  had  a 
good  horse,  and  having  had  him  well  fed,  he  did  not 
spare  whip  or  spur,  but  dashed  along  at  a  rapid  pace 
through  the  gloom  and  silence  of  the  winter's  night, 
and  had  already  distanced  the  town  upwards  of  five 
miles,  when,  on  arriving  at  a  very  desolate  part  of  the 
road,  a  gun  shot,  fired  from  behind  the  bushes,  put 
an  end  to  his  mortal  existence.  Two  strange  men, 
who  had  been  at  the  same  public-house  in  Mary- 
borough drinking,  observing  that  he  had  money,  and 
learning  the  road  that  he  was  to  travel,  conspired  to 
rob  and  murder  him,  and  waylaid  him  in  this  lonely 
spot  for  that  horrid  purpose. 

Poor  Moya  did  not  go  to  bed  that  night,  but  sat  at 
the  fire,  every  moment  impatiently  expecting  his  return. 
Often  did  she  listen  at  the  door  to  try  if  she  could  hear 
the  tramp  of  horses'  footsteps  approaching  ;  but  in 
vain ;  no  sound  met  her  ear  except  the  sad  wail  of 
the  night  wind,  moaning  fitfully  through  the  tall  bushes 
which  surrounded  the  ancient  dwelling,  or  the  sullen 
roar  of  a  little  dark  river,  which  wound  its  way  through 
the  lowlands  at  a  small  distance  from  where  she  stood. 
Tired  with  watching,  at  length  she  fell  asleep  on  the 
hearthstone ;  but  that  sleep  was  disturbed  and  broken, 
and  frightful  and  appalling  dreams  incessantly  haunted 
her  imagination. 


The  Banshee.  i6i 

At  length  the  darksome  morning  appeared  struggling 
through  the  wintry  clouds,  and  Moya  again  opened  the 
door  to  look  out.  But  what  was  her  dismay,  when  she 
found  the  horse  standing  at  the  stable  door  without  his 
rider,  and  the  saddle  all  besmeared  with  clotted  blood. 
She  raised  the  death-cry  ;  the  neighbours  thronged 
round,  and  it  was  at  once  declared  that  the  hapless 
man  was  robbed  and  murdered.  A  party  on  horse- 
back immediately  set  forward  to  seek  him,  and  on 
arriving  at  the  fatal  spot,  he  was  found  stretched 
on  his  back  in  the  ditch,  his  head  perforated  with 
shot  and  slugs,  and  his  body  literally  immersed  in  a 
pool  of  blood.  On  examining  him,  it  was  found  that 
his  money  was  gone,  and  a  valuable  gold  watch  and 
appendages  abstracted  from  his  pocket.  His  remains 
were  conveyed  home,  and,  after  having  been  waked  the 
customary  time,  were  committed  to  the  grave  of  his 
ancestors  in  the  little  green  churchyard  of  the  village. 

Having  no  legitimate  children,  the  nearest  heir  to 
his  property  was  a  brother,  a  cabinetmaker,  who 
resided  in  London,  A  letter  was  accordingly  de- 
spatched to  the  brother  announcing  the  sad  catastrophe, 
and  calling  on  him  to  come  and  take  possession  of  the 
property  ;  and  two  men  were  appointed  to  guard  the 
place  until  he  should  arrive. 

The  two  men  delegated  to  act  as  guardians,  or,  as 
they  are  technically  termed,  "keepers,"  were  old 
friends  and  comrades  of  the  deceased,  and  had  served 
with  him  in  the  same  yeomanry  corps.  Jack  O'Malley 
was  a  Roman  Catholic,  a  square,  stout-built,  and 
handsome  fellow,  with  a  pleasant  word  for  every  one, 
and  full  of  that  gaiety,  vivacity,  and  nonchalance  for 
/  L 


1 62  Weird  Tales. 

which  the  Roman  Catholic  peasantry  of  Ireland  are 
so  particularly  distinguished.  He  was  now  about 
forty-five  years  of  age  ;  sternly  attached  to  the  dogmas 
of  his  religion,  and  always  remarkable  for  his  revolu- 
tionai-y  and  anti-British  principles.  He  was  brave  as 
a  lion,  and  never  quailed  before  a  man ;  but  though 
caring  so  little  for  a  living  man,  he  was  extremely 
afraid  of  a  dead  one,  and  would  go  ten  miles  out  of 
his  road  at  night  to  avoid  passing  a  "rath,"  or 
"  haunted  bush."  Harry  Taylor,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  a  staunch  Protestant ;  a  tall,  genteel-looking  man, 
of  proud  and  imperious  aspect,  and  full  of  reserve  and 
hautetcr — the  natural  consequence  of  a  consciousness 
of  political  and  religious  ascendency,  and  superiority 
of  intelligence  and  education,  which  so  conspicuously 
marked  the  demeanour  of  the  Protestant  peasantry  of 
those  days.  Harry,  too,  loved  his  glass  as  well  as 
Jack,  but  was  of  a  more  peaceful  disposition,  and,  as 
he  was  well  educated  and  intelligent,  he  was  utterly 
opposed  to  superstition,  and  laughed  to  scorn  the 
mere  idea  of  ghosts,  goblins,  and  fairies.  Thus  Jack 
and  Harry  were  diametrically  opposed  to  each  other 
in  every  point,  except  their  love  of  the  cruiskeen,  yet 
they  never  failed  to  seize  every  opportunity  of  being 
together ;  and  although  they  often  blackened  each 
other's  eyes  in  their  political  and  religious  disputes, 
yet  their  quarrels  were  always  amicably  settled,  and 
they  never  found  themselves  happy  but  in  each  other's 
society. 

It  was  now  the  sixth  or  seventh  night  that  Jack  and 
Harry,  as  usual,  kept  their  lonely  watch  in  the  kitchen 
of  the  murdered  man.    A  large  turf  fire  blazed  brightly 


The  Banshee.  163 

(.m  the  hearth,  and  on  a  bed  of  straw  in  the  ample 
chimney-corner  was  stretched  old  Moya  in  a  profound 
sleep.  On  the  hearthstone,  between  the  two  friends, 
stood  a  small  oak  table,  on  which  was  placed  a  large 
decanter  of  whisky,  a  jug  of  boiled  water,  and  a 
bowl  of  sugar ;  and,  as  if  to  add  an  idea  of  security 
to  that  of  comfort,  on  one  end  of  the  table  were  placed 
in  saltier  a  formidable-looking  blunderbuss,  and  a 
brace  of  large  brass  pistols.  Jack  and  his  comrade 
perpetually  renewed  their  acquaintance  with  the 
whisky  bottle,  and  laughed,  and  chatted,  and  re- 
counted the  adventures  of  their  young  days  with  as 
much  hilarity  as  if  the  house  which  now  witnessed 
their  mirth  never  echoed  to  the  cry  of  death  or  blood. 
In  the  course  of  conversation.  Jack  mentioned  the 
incident  of  the  strange  appearance  of  the  banshee,  and 
expressed  a  hope  that  she  would  not  come  that  niglit 
to  disturb  their  carouse. 

"  Banshee  the  devil,"  shouted  Harry  ;  "  how  super- 
stitious you  papists  are  !  I  would  like  to  see  the  phiz 
of  any  man,  dead  or  alive,  who  dare  make  his  appear- 
ance here  to-night ;  "  and  seizing  the  blunderbuss,  and 
looking  wickedly  at  Jack,  he  vociferated,  "  By  Her- 
cules, I  would  drive  the  contents  of  this  through  their 
sowls  who  dare  annoy  us." 

"  Better  for  you  shoot  your  mother  than  fue  at  the 
])anshee,  anyhow,"  remarked  Jack. 

"  Psha  !  "  said  Harry,  looking  contemptuously  at 
his  companion,  "  I  would  think  no  more  of  riddling 
the  old  Jade's  hide  than  I  would  of  throwing  off  this 
tumbler ; "  and  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word,  he 
drained  off  another  bumper  of  whisky  punch. 


1 64  Weird  Tales. 

"Jack,"  says  Harry,  "now  that  we  are  in  such 
prime  humour,  will  you  give  us  a  song?  " 

"  With  all  the  veins  of  my  heart,"  says  Jack  ; 
* '  what  will  it  be  ?  " 

"  Anything  you  please  ;  your  will  must  be  my 
pleasure,"  answered  Harry. 

Jack,  after  coughing  and  clearing  his  pipes, 
chanted  forth,  in  a  bold  and  musical  voice,  a  rude 
rigmarole,  called  "The  Royal  Blackbird,"  which, 
although  of  no  intrinsic  merit,  yet,  as  it  expressed 
sentiments  hostile  to  British  connection  and  British 
government,  and  favourable  to  the  house  of  Stewart, 
was  very  popular  amongst  the  Catholic  peasantry  of 
Ireland,  whilst,  on  the  contrary,  it  was  looked  upon 
by  the  Protestants  as  highly  offensive  and  disloyal. 
Harry,  however,  wished  his  companion  too  well  to 
oppose  the  song,  and  he  quietly  awaited  its  con- 
clusion. 

"  Bravo,  Jack,"  said  Harry,  as  soon  as  the  song 
was  ended  ;  "  that  you  may  never  lose  your 
wind." 

"  In  the  king's  name  now  I  board  you  for  another 
song,"  says  Jack. 

Harry,  without  hesitation,  recognised  his  friends 
right  to  demand  a  return,  and  he  instantly  trolled 
forth  in  a  deep,  sweet,  and  sonorous  voice,  the 
following 

SONG. 

Ho,  boys,  I  have  a  song  divine  ! 
Come  let  us  now  in  concert  join, 
And  toast  the  bonny  banks  of  Boyne  — 

The  Boyne  of  "Glorious"  Memory." 


The  Banshee.  165 

On  Eoyne's  famed  banks  our  fathers  bled  ; 
Boyne's  surges  with  their  blood  ran  red ; 
And  from  the  Boyne  our  foemen  fled — 
Intolerance,  chains,  and  slavery. 

Dark  superstition's  blood-stained  sons 
Pressed  on,  but  "  crack  "  went  William's  guns, 
And  soon  the  gloomy  monster  runs — 
Fell,  hydra-headed  bigotry. 

Then  fill  your  glasses  high  and  fair, 
Let  shouts  of  triumph  rend  the  air, 
Whilst  Georgy  fills  the  regal  chair 
We'll  never  bow  to  Popery. 

Jack,  whose  countenance  had,  from  the  commence- 
ment of  the  song,  indicated  his  aversion  to  the  senti- 
ments it  expressed,  now  lost  all  patience  at  hearing 
his  darling  "Popery"  impugned,  and  seizing  one  of 
the  pistols  which  lay  on  the  table,  and  whirling  it  over 
his  comrade's  head,  swore  vehemently  that  he  would 
' '  fracture  his  skull  if  he  did  not  instantly  drop  that 
blackguard  Orange  lampoon." 

''Aisy,  avhic,"said  Harry,  quietly  pushing  away  the 
upraised  arm  ;  "  I  did  not  oppose  your  bit  of  treason 
a  while  ago,  and  besides,  the  latter  end  of  my  song  is 
more  calculated  to  please  you  than  to  irritate  your 
feelings." 

Jack  seemed  pacified,  and  Harry  continued  his 
strain. 

And  fill  a  bumper  to  the  brim — 
A  flowing  one — and  drink  to  him 
\V' ho,  let  the  world  go  sink  or  swim, 

Would  arm  for  Britain's  liberty. 


i66  Weird  Tales. 

No  matter  what  may  be  his  hue, 
Or  black,  or  white,  or  green,  or  blue, 
Or  Papist,  Paynim,  or  Hindoo, 
We'll  drink  to  him  right  cordially. 

Jack  was  so  pleased  with  the  friendly  turn  which 
the  latter  part  of  Harry's  song  took,  that  he  joyfully 
stretched  out  his  hand,  and  even  joined  in  chorus  to 
the  concluding  stanza. 

The  fire  had  now  decayed  on  the  hearth,  the 
whisky  bottle  was  almost  emptied,  and  the  two 
sentinels  getting  drowsy,  put  out  the  candle  and  laid 
down  their  heads  to  slumber.  The  song,  and  the 
laugh,  and  the  jest  were  now  hushed,  and  no  sound 
was  to  be  heard  but  the  incessant  click,  click  of  the 
clock  in  the  inner  room,  and  the  deep,  heavy  breath- 
ing of  old  Moya  in  the  chimney-corner. 

They  had  slept  they  knew  not  how  long,  when  the 
old  hag  awakened  with  a  wild  shriek.  She  jumped 
out  of  bed,  and  crouched  between  the  men  ;  they 
started  up,  and  asked  her  what  had  happened. 

"  Oh  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  the  banshee,  the  banshee  ! 
Lord  have  mercy  on  us  !  she  is  come  again,  and  I 
never  heard  her  so  wild  and  outrageous  before." 

Jack  O'Malley  readily  believed  old  Moya's  tale  ;  so 
did  Harry,  but  he  thought  it  might  be  some  one  who 
was  committing  some  depredation  on  the  premises. 
They  both  listened  attentively,  but  could  hear  nothing ; 
they  opened  the  kitchen  door,  but  all  was  still ;  they 
looked  abroad,  it  was  a  fine,  calm  night,  and  myriads 
of  twinkling  stars  were  burning  in  the  deep -blue 
heavens.  They  proceeded  around  the  yard  and  hay- 
yard  ;    but  all  was  calm  and  lonely,   and  no  sound 


The  Banshee.  167 

saluted  their  ears  but  the  shrill  barking  of  some  neigh- 
bouring cur,  or  the  sluggish  murmuring  of  the  little, 
tortuous  river  in  the  distance.  Satisfied  that  "all  was 
right,"  they  again  went  in,  replenished  the  expiring 
fire,  and  sat  down  to  finish  whatever  still  remained  in 
the  whisky  bottle. 

They  had  not  sat  many  minutes,  when  a  wild, 
unearthly  cry  was  heard  M'ithout. 

"The  banshee  again,"  said  Moya  faintly.  Jack 
O'Malley's  soul  sunk  within  him  ;  Harry  startled  up 
and  seized  the  blunderbuss ;  Jack  caught  his  arm, 
"  No,  no,  Harry,  you  shall  not ;  sit  down — there's 
no  fear — nothing  will  happen  us." 

Harry  sat  down,  but  still  gripped  the  blunderbuss, 
and  Jack  lit  his  tobacco-pipe.  Whilst  the  old  woman 
was  on  her  knees,  striking  her  breast,  and  repeating 
her  prayers  with  great  vehemence. 

The  sad  cry  was  again  heard,  louder  and  fiercer 
than  before.  It  now  seemed  to  proceed  from  the 
window,  and  again  it  appeared  as  if  issuing  from  the 
door.  At  times  it  would  seem  as  if  coming  from  afar, 
whilst  again  it  w^ould  appear  as  if  coming  down  the 
chimney,  or  springing  from  the  ground  beneath  their 
feet.  Sometimes  the  cry  resembled  the  low,  plaintive 
wail  of  a  female  in  distress  ;  and  in  a  moment,  it  was 
raised  to  a  prolonged  yell,  loud  and  furious,  and  as  if 
coming  from  a  thousand  throats ;  now  the  sound 
resembled  a  low,  melancholy  chant,  and  then  was 
quickly  changed  to  a  loud,  broken,  demoniac  laugh. 
It  continued  thus,  with  little  intermission,  for  about 
a  quarter  of  an  hour,  when  it  died  away,  and  was 
succeeded  by  a  heavy,  creaking  sound  as  if  of  some 


1 68  Weird  Tales. 

large  waggon,  amidst  which  the  loud  tramp  of  horses' 
footsteps  might  be  distinguished,  accompanied  with  a 
strong,  rushing  wind.  This  strange  noise  proceeded 
round  and  round  the  house  two  or  three  times,  then 
went  down  the  lane  which  led  to  the  road,  and  was 
heard  no  more.  Jack  O'Malley  stood  aghast,  and 
Harry  Taylor,  with  all  his  philosophy  and  scepticism, 
was  astonished  and  frightened. 

"  A  dreadful  night  this,  Moya,"  said  Jack. 

"Yes,"  said  she,  "that  is  the  dead-coach  ;  I  often 
heard  it  before,  and  have  sometimes  seen  it." 

"  Seen,  did  you  say  ?  "  said  Harry  ;  "  pray  describe 
it." 

"Why,"  replied  the  old  crone,  "  it's  like  any  other 
coach,  but  twice  as  big,  and  hung  over  with  black 
cloth  and  a  black  coffin  on  the  top  of  it,  and  drawn 
by  headless,  black  horses." 

"  Heaven  protect  us  !  "  ejaculated  Jack. 

"It  is  very  strange,"  remarked  Harry. 

"But,"  continued  Moya,  "it  always  comes  before 
the  death  of  a  person,  and  I  wonder  what  brought  it 
now,  unless  it  came  with  the  banshee." 

"Maybe  its  coming  for  you,"  said  Harry,  with  an 
arch,  yet  subdued,  smile. 

"No,  no,"  she  said  ;  "  I  am  none  of  that  family  at 
all  at  all." 

A  solemn  silence  now  ensued  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  they  thought  all  was  vanished,  when  again  the 
dreadful  cry  struck  heavily  on  their  ears. 

"Open  the  door.  Jack,". said  Harry,  "and  put  out 
Hector." 

Hector    was   a   large  and    very    ferocious    mastiff, 


The  Banshee.  169 

belonging  to  Jack  O'lNIalley,  and  always  accompanied 
him  wherever  he  went. 

Jack  opened  the  door,  and  attempted  to  put  out  the 
dog  ;  but  the  poor  animal  refused  to  go,  and  as  his 
master  attempted  to  force  him,  howled  in  a  loud  and 
mournful  tone. 

"  You  must  go,"  said  Harry,  and  he  caught  him  in 
his  arms  and  flung  him  over  the  half-door.  The  poor 
tlog  was  scarcely  on  the  ground  when  he  was  whirled 
aloft  into  the  air  by  some  invisible  power,  and  he 
fell  again  to  earth  lifeless,  and  the  pavement  was 
besmeared  with  his  entrails  and  blood. 

Harry  now  lost  all  patience,  and  again  seizing  his 
blunderbuss,  he  exclaimed,  "Come,  Jack,  my  boy, 
take  your  pistols  and  follow  me  ;  I  have  but  one  life 
to  lose,  and  I  will  venture  it  to  have  a  crack  at  this 
infernal  demon." 

"  I  will  follow  you  to  death's  doors, "  said  Jack  ;  ' '  but 
I  would  not  fire  at  the  banshee  for  a  million  of  worlds." 

Moya  seized  Harry  by  the  skirts.  "  Don't  go  out," 
she  cried  ;  "let  her  alone  while  she  lets  you  alone,  for 
an  hour's  luck  never  shone  on  any  one  that  ever 
molested  the  banshee." 

"  Psha  !  woman,"  said  Harry,  and  he  pushed  away 
poor  Moya  contemptuously. 

The  two  men  now  sallied  forth  ;  the  wild  cry  still 
continued,  and  it  seemed  to  issue  from  amongst  some 
stacks  in  the  hay-yard  behind  the  house.  They  went 
round  and  paused  ;  again  they  heard  the  cry,  and 
Harry  elevated  his  blunderbuss. 

"  Don't  fire,"  said  Jack. 

Harry  replied  not  ;    he  looked  scornfully  at  Jack ; 


lyo  Weird  Tales. 

then  put  his  finger  on  the  trigger,  and — bang — away 
it  exploded  with  a  thundering  sound.  An  extra- 
ordinary scream  was  now  heard  ten  times  louder  and 
more  terrific  than  they  heard  before.  Their  hair 
stood  erect  on  their  heads,  and  huge,  round  drops  of 
sweat  ran  down  their  faces  in  quick  succession.  A 
glare  of  reddish  blue  light  shone  around  the  stacks ; 
the  rumbling  of  the  "  death-coach"  was  again  heard 
coming  ;  it  drove  up  to  the  house,  drawn  by  six  head- 
less, sable  horses,  and  the  figure  of  a  withered  old  hag, 
encircled  with  blue  flame,  was  seen  running  nimbly 
across  the  hay  -  yard.  She  entered  the  ominous 
carriage,  and  it  drove  away  with  a  horrible  sound. 
It  swept  through  the  tall  bushes  which  surrounded 
the  house ;  and  as  it  disappeared,  the  old  hag  cast  a 
thrilling  scowl  at  the  two  men,  and  waved  her  flesh- 
less  arms  at  them  vengefully.  It  was  soon  lost  to 
sight ;  but  the  unearthly  creaking  of  the  wheels,  the 
tramping  of  the  horses,  and  the  appalling  cries  of  the 
banshee,  continued  to  assail  their  ears  for  a  consider- 
able time  after  all  had  vanished. 

The  brave  fellows  now  returned  to  the  house  ; 
they  again  made  fast  the  door,  and  reloaded  their 
arms.  Nothing,  however,  came  to  disturb  them  that 
night,  nor  from  that  time  forward  ;  and  the  arrival  of 
the  dead  man's  brother  from  London,  in  a  few  days 
after,  relieved  them  from  their  irksome  task. 

Old  Moya  did  not  live  long  after  ;  she  declined 
from  that  remarkable  night,  and  her  remains  were 
decently  interred  in  the  churchyard,  adjoining  the 
last  earthly  tenement  of  the  loved  family  to  which  she 
had  been  so  long  and  so  faithfully  attached. 


The  Banshee.  \  7 1 

The  insulted  banshee  has  never  since  returned  ;  and 
although  several  members  of  that  family  have  since 
closed  their  mortal  career,  still  the  warning  cry  was 
never  given  ;  and  it  is  supposed  that  the  injured 
spirit  will  never  visit  her  ancient  haunts,  until  every 
one  of  the  existing  generation  shall  have  "slept  with 
their  fathers." 

Jack  O'Malley  and  his  friend  Harry  lived  some 
years  after.  Their  friendship  still  continued  un- 
diminished like  "Tarn  O'Shanter "  and  "  Souter 
Johnny,"  they  still  continued  to  love  each  other  like 
"  a  verj' brither,"  and  like  that  jovial  pair  also,  our 
two  comrades  were  often  "  fou  for  weeks  thegiiher  ; " 
and  often  over  their  criiiskeen  would  they  laugh  at 
their  strange  adventure  with  the  banshee.  It  is  now, 
however,  all  over  with  them  too ;  their  race  is  run, 
and  thev  are  now  "  tenants  of  the  tomb." 


LEGENDS  OF  THE  BANSHEE. 

By  T.  Crofton  Croker,  Esq. 

The  family  of  MacCarthy  have  for  some  generations 
possessed  a  small  estate  in  the  county  of  Tipperary. 
They  are  the  descendants  of  a  race  once  numerous 
and  powerful  in  the  south  of  Ireland  ;  and  though  it 
is  probable  that  the  property  they  at  present  hold  is 
no  part  of  the  large  possessions  of  their  ancestors,  yet 
the  district  in  which  they  live  is  so  connected  with 
the  name  of  IVIacCarthy  by  those  associations  which 
are  never  forgotten  in  Ireland,  that  they  have  pre- 
served with  all  ranks  a  sort  of  influence  much  greater 
than  that  which  their  fortune  or  connections  could 
otherwise  give  them.  They  are,  like  most  of  this 
class,  of  the  Roman  Catholic  persuasion,  to  which 
they  adhere  with  somewhat  of  the  pride  of  ancestry, 
blended  with  a  something,  call  it  what  you  will, 
whether  bigotry,  or  a  sense  of  wrong,  arising  out 
of  repeated  diminutions  of  their  family  possessions, 
during  the  more  rigorous  periods  of  the  penal  laws. 
Being  an  old  family,  and  especially  being  an  old 
Catholic  family,  they  have  of  course  their  banshee  ; 
and  the  circumstances  under  which  the  appear- 
ance, which  I  shall  relate,  of  this  mysterious  harbinger 
of  evil  took  place,  were  told  me  by  an  old  lady,  a 
near  connection  of  theirs,  who  knew  many  of  the 
parties  concerned,  and  who,  though  not  deficient 
172 


Legends  of  the  Baiishee.  173 

in  understanding  or  education,  cannot  to  this  day 
be  brought  to  give  a  decisive  opinion  as  to  the 
truth  or  authenticity  of  the  story.  The  plain  infer- 
ence to  be  drawn  from  this  is,  that  she  believes  it, 
though  she  does  not  own  it ;  and  as  she  was  a  con- 
temporary of  the  persons  concerned,  as  she  heard 
the  account  from  many  persons  about  the  same 
period,  all  concurring  in  the  important  particulars, 
as  some  of  her  authorities  were  themselves  actors  in 
the  scene,  and  as  none  of  the  parties  were  interested 
in  speaking  what  was  false, — I  think  we  have  about 
as  good  evidence  that  the  whole  is  undeniably  true- 
as  we  have  of  many  narratives  of  modern  history 
which  I  could  name,  and  which  many  grave  and 
sober  -  minded  people  would  deem  it  very  great 
Pyrrhonism  to  question.  This,  however,  is  a  point 
which  it  is  not  my  province  to  determine.  People 
who  deal  out  stories  of  this  sort  must  be  content  to 
act  like  certain  young  politicians,  who  tell  very 
freely  to  their  friends  what  they  hear  at  a  great 
man's  table  ;  not  guilty  of  the  impertinence  of  weigh- 
ing the  doctrines,  but  leaving  it  to  their  hearers  to 
understand  them  in  any  sense,  or  in  no  sense,  just  as 
they  may  please, 

Charles  MacCarthy  was,  in  the  year  1749,  the  only 
surviving  son  of  a  very  numerous  family.  His  father 
died  when  he  was  little  more  than  twenty,  leaving 
him  the  MacCarthy  estate,  not  much  encumbered, 
considering  that  it  was  an  Irish  one.  Charles  was 
gay,  handsome,  unfettered  either  by  poverty,  a  father, 
or  guardians,  and  therefore  was  not,  at  the  age  of 
one-and-twenty,  a  pattern  of  regularity  and  virtue. 


174  Weird  Tales. 

In  plain  terms,  he  was  an  exceedingly  dissipated — I 
fear  I  may  say,  debauched  young  man.  His  com- 
panions were,  as  may  be  supposed,  of  the  higher 
classes  of  the  youth  in  his  neighbourhood,  and,  in 
general,  of  those  whose  fortunes  were  larger  than  his 
own,  whose  dispositions  to  pleasure  were  therefore 
under  still  less  restrictions,  and  in  whose  example  he 
found  at  once  an  incentive  and  an  apology  for  his 
irregularities.  Besides,  Ireland,  a  place  to  this  day 
not  very  remarkable  for  the  coolness  and  steadiness 
of  its  youth,  was  then  one  of  the  cheapest  countries 
in  the  world  in  most  of  those  articles  which  money 
supplies  for  the  indulgence  of  the  passions.  The 
odious  exciseman, — with  his  portentous  book  in  one 
hand,  his  unrelenting  pen  held  in  the  other,  or  stuck 
beneath  his  hatband,  and  the  ink  bottle  ("black 
emblem  of  the  informer")  dangling  from  his  waist- 
coat-button,— went  not  then  from  ale-house  to  ale- 
house, denouncing  all  those  patriotic  dealers  in 
spirits,  who  preferred  selling  whisky  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  English  laws  (but  to  elude 
them),  to  retailing  that  poisonous  liquor  which 
derived  its  name  from  the  British  "Parliament" 
that  compelled  its  circulation  among  a  reluctant 
people.  Or  if  the  ganger — recording  angel  of  the 
law — wrote  down  the  peccadillo  of  a  publican,  he 
dropped  a  tear  upon  the  word,  and  blotted  it  out 
for  ever  !  For,  welcome  to  the  tables  of  their  hospit- 
able neighbours,  the  guardians  of  the  excise,  where 
they  existed  at  all,  scrupled  to  abridge  those  luxuries 
which  they  freely  shared ;  and  thus  the  competition 
in  the  market  between  the  smuggler,  who  incurred 


Lege  fids  of  the  Banshee.  175 

little  hazard,  and  the  personage  ycleped  fair  trader, 
who  enjoyed  little  protection,  made  Ireland  a  land 
flowing,  not  merely  with  milk  and  honey,  but  with 
whisky  and  wine.  In  the  enjoyments  supplied  by 
these,  and  in  the  many  kindred  pleasures  to  which 
frail  youth  is  but  too  prone,  Charles  MacCarthy 
indulged  to  such  a  degree,  that  just  about  the  time 
when  he  had  completed  his  four-and-twentieth  year, 
after  a  week  of  great  excesses,  he  was  seized  with  a 
violent  fever,  which,  from  its  malignity,  and  the 
.weakness  of  his  frame,  left  scarcely  a  hope  of  his 
recovery.  His  mother,  who  had  at  first  made  many 
efforts  to  check  his  vices,  and  at  last  had  been 
obliged  to  look  on  at  his  rapid  progress  to  ruin  in 
silent  despair,  watched  day  and  night  at  his  pillow. 
The  anguish  of  parental  feeling  was  blended  with 
that  still  deeper  misery  which  those  only  know  who 
have  striven  hard  to  rear  in  virtue  and  piety  a 
beloved  and  favourite  child  ;  have  found  him  grow 
up  all  that  their  hearts  could  desire,  until  he  reached 
manhood  ;  and  then,  when  their  pride  was  highest, 
and  their  hopes  almost  ended  in  the  fulfilment  of 
their  fondest  expectations,  have  seen  this  idol  of 
their  affections  plunge  headlong  into  a  course  of  reck- 
less profligacy,  and,  after  a  rapid  career  of  vice,  hang 
upon  the  verge  of  eternity,  without  the  leisure  or 
the  power  of  repentance.  Fervently  she  prayed  that, 
if  his  life  could  not  be  spared,  at  least  the  delirium, 
which  continued  with  increasing  violence  from  the 
first  few  hours  of  his  disorder,  might  vanish  before 
death,  and  leave  enough  of  light  and  of  calm  for 
making   his   peace   with    offended    Heaven.      After 


176  Weird  Tales. 

several  days,  however,  nature  seemed  quite  exhausted, 
and  he  sunk  into  a  state  too  like  death  to  be  mistaken 
for  the  repose  of  sleep.  His  face  had  that  pale, 
glossy,  marble  look,  which  is  in  general  so  sure  a 
symptom  that  life  has  left  its  tenement  of  clay.  His 
eyes  were  closed  and  sunk,  the  lids  having  that  com- 
pressed and  stiffened  appearance  which  seemed  to 
indicate  that  some  friendly  hand  had  done  its  last 
office.  The  lips,  half  closed  and  perfectly  ashy, 
discovered  just  so  much  of  the  teeth  as  to  give  to  the 
features  of  death  their  most  ghastly,  but  most  impres- 
sive look.  He  lay  upon  his  back,  with  his  hands 
stretched  beside  him,  quite  motionless ;  and  his  dis- 
tracted mother,  after  repeated  trials,  could  discover 
not  the  least  symptom  of  animation.  The  medical 
man  who  attended,  having  tried  the  usual  modes  for 
ascertaining  the  presence  of  life,  declared  at  last  his 
opinion  that  it  was  flown,  and  prepared  to  depart 
from  the  house  of  mourning.  His  horse  was  seen  to 
come  to  the  door.  A  crowd  of  people  who  were 
collected  before  the  windows,  or  scattered  in  groups 
on  the  lawn  in  front,  gathered  around  when  the  door 
opened.  These  were  tenants,  fosterers,  and  poor 
relations  of  the  family,  with  others  attracted  by 
affection,  or  by  that  interest  which  partakes  of 
curiosity,  but  is  something  more,  and  Avhich  collects 
the  lower  ranks  round  a  house  where  a  human 
being  is  in  his  passage  to  another  world.  They 
saw  the  professional  man  come  out  from  the  hall 
door  and  approach  his  horse ;  and  while  slowly, 
and  with  a  melancholy  air,  he  prepared  to  mount, 
they  clustered  round  him  with  inquiring  and  wistful 


Legends  of  the  Ba?ishee.  177 

looks.  Not  a  word  was  spoken,  but  their  meaning 
could  not  be  misunderstood ;  and  the  physician, 
when  he  had  got  into  his  saddle,  and  while  the 
servant  was  still  holding  the  bridle,  as  if  to  delay 
him,  and  was  looking  anxiously  at  his  face  as  if 
expecting  that  he  would  relieve  the  general  suspense, 
shook  his  head,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  It's  all 
over,  James ; "  and  moved  slowly  away.  The 
moment  he  had  spoken,  the  women  present,  who 
were  very  numerous,  uttered  a  shrill  cry,  which, 
having  been  sustained  for  about  half  a  minute,  fell 
suddenly  into  a  full,  loud,  continued,  and  discordant 
but  plaintive  wailing,  above  which  occasionally  were 
heard  the  deep  sounds  of  a  man's  voice,  sometimes 
in  broken  sobs,  sometimes  in  more  distinct  exclama- 
tions of  sorrow.  This  was  Charles's  foster-brother, 
who  moved  about  the  crowd,  now  clapping  his 
hands,  now  rubbing  them  together  in  an  agony  of 
grief.  The  poor  fellow  had  been  Charles's  playmate 
and  companion  when  a  boy,  and  afterwards  his 
servant ;  had  always  been  distinguished  by  his  pecu- 
liar regard,  and  loved  his  young  master  as  much,  at 
least,  as  he  did  his  own  life. 

^Vhen  Mrs.  MacCarthy  became  convinced  that  the 
blow  was  indeed  struck,  and  that  her  beloved  son 
was  sent  to  his  last  account,  even  in  the  blossoms  of 
his  sin,  she  remained  for  some  time  gazing  with 
fixedness  upon  his  cold  features ;  then,  as  if  some- 
thing had  suddenly  touched  the  string  of  her  tenderest 
affections,  tear  after  tear  trickled  down  her  cheeks, 
pale  with  anxiety  and  watching.  Still  she  continued 
looking  at  her  son,  apparently  unconscious  that  she 


178  Weird  Tales, 

was  weeping,  without  once  lifting  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes,  until  reminded  of  the  sad  duties  which 
the  custom  of  the  country  imposed  upon  her,  by  the 
crowd  of  females  belonging  to  the  better  class  of  the 
peasantry  who  now,  crying  audibly,  nearly  filled  the 
apartment.  She  then  withdrew,  to  give  directions 
for  the  ceremony  of  wakings  and  for  supplying  the 
numerous  visitors  of  all  ranks  with  the  refreshments 
usual  on  these  melancholy  occasions.  Though  her 
voice  was  scarcely  heard,  and  though  no  one  saw  her 
but  the  servants  and  one  or  two  old  followers  of  the 
family,  who  assisted  her  in  the  necessary  arrange- 
ments, everything  was  conducted  with  the  greatest 
regularity ;  and  though  she  made  no  effort  to  check 
her  sorrows,  they  never  once  suspended  her  attention, 
now  more  than  ever  required  to  preserve  order  in  her 
household,  which,  in  this  season  of  calamity,  but  for 
her  would  have  been  all  confusion. 

The  night  was  pretty  far  advanced  ;  the  boisterous 
lamentations  which  had  prevailed  during  part  of  the 
day  in  and  about  the  house  had  given  place  to  a 
solemn  and  mournful  stillness  ;  and  Mrs.  MacCarthy, 
whose  heart,  notwithstanding  her  long  fatigue  and 
watching,  was  yet  too  sore  for  sleep,  was  kneeling 
in  fervent  prayer  in  a  chamber  adjoining  that  of  her 
son ; — suddenly  her  devotions  were  disturbed  by  an 
unusual  noise,  proceeding  from  the  persons  who  were 
watching  round  the  body.  First  there  was  a  low 
murmur,  then  all  was  silent,  as  if  the  movements 
of  those  in  the  chamber  were  checked  by  a  sudden 
panic,  and  then  a  loud  cry  of  terror  burst  from  all 
within  :  the  door  of  the  chamber  was  thrown  open, 


Lege?ids  of  the  Ba?ishee.  i  79 

and  all  who  were  not  overturned  in  the  press  rushed 
wildly  into  the  passage  which  led  to  the  stairs,  and 
into  which  Mrs.  MacCarthy's  room  opened.  Mrs. 
MacCarthy  made  her  way  through  the  crowd  into 
her  son's  chamber,  where  she  found  him  sitting  up 
in  the  bed,  and  looking  vacantly  around,  like  one 
risen  from  the  grave.  The  glare  thrown  upon  his 
sunk  features  and  thin  lathy  frame  gave  an  unearthly 
horror  to  his  whole  aspect.  Mrs.  MacCarthy  was  a 
woman  of  some  firmness ;  but  she  was  a  woman, 
and  not  quite  free  from  the  superstitions  of  her 
country.  She  dropped  on  her  knees,  and,  clasping 
her  hands,  began  to  pray  aloud.  The  form  before  her 
moved  only  its  lips,  and  barely  uttered,  "Mother  ;  " 
but  though  the  pale  lips  moved,  as  if  there  was  a 
design  to  finish  the  sentence,  the  tongue  refused  its 
ofhce.  Mrs.  MacCarthy  sprung  forward,  and,  catch- 
ing the  arm  of  her  son,  exclaimed,  "Speak!  in 
the  name  of  God  and  His  saints,  speak  !  are  you 
alive?" 

He  turned  to  her  slowly,  and  said,  speaking  still 
with  apparent  difficulty,  "  Yes,  my  mother,  alive, 
and — but  sit  down  and  collect  yourself ;  I  have  that 
to  tell  which  will  astonish  you  still  more  than  what 
you  have  seen."  He  leaned  back  upon  his  pillow, 
and  while  his  mother  remained  kneeling  by  the  bed- 
side, holding  one  of  his  hands  clasped  in  hers,  and 
gazing  on  him  with  the  look  of  one  who  distrusted  all 
her  senses,  he  proceeded  :  *'  Do  not  interrupt  me 
until  I  have  done.  I  wish  to  speak  while  the  excite- 
ment of  returning  life  is  upon  me,  as  I  know  I  shall 
soon  need  much  repose.     Of  the  commencement  of 


i8o  Weird  Tales. 

my  illness  I  have  only  a  confused  .recollection  ;  but 
within  the  last  twelve  hours  I  have  been  before  the 
judgment-seat  of  God.  Do  not  stare  incredulously  on 
me — 'tis  as  true  as  have  been  my  crimes,  and  as,  I 
trust,  shall  be  repentance.  I  saw  the  awful  Judge 
arrayed  in  all  the  terrors  which  invest  Him  when 
mercy  gives  place  to  justice.  The  dreadful  pomp  of 
offended  Omnipotence,  I  saw, — I  remember.  It  is 
fixed  here ;  printed  on  my  brain  in  characters  indel- 
ible ;  but  it  passeth  human  language.  What  I  can 
describe  I  will — I  may  speak  it  briefly.  It  is  enough 
to  say,  I  was  weighed  in  the  balance  and  found 
wanting.  The  irrevocable  sentence  was  upon  the 
point  of  being  pronounced  ;  the  eye  of  my  Almighty 
Judge,  which  had  already  glanced  upon  me,  half 
spoke  my  doom  ;  when  I  observed  the  guardian 
saint,  to  whom  you  so  often  directed  my  prayers 
when  I  was  a  child,  looking  at  me  with  an  expres- 
sion of  benevolence  and  compassion.  I  stretched 
forth  my  hands  to  him,  and  besought  his  intercession ; 
I  implored  that  one  year,  one  month,  might  be  given 
to  me  on  earth  to  do  penance  and  atonement  for  my 
transgressions.  He  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  my 
Judge,  and  supplicated  for  mercy.  Oh !  never — not 
if  I  should  pass  through  ten  thousand  successive 
states  of  being — never,  for  eternity,  shall  I  forget  the 
horrors  of  that  moment,  when  my  fate  hung  suspended 
— when  an  instant  was  to  decide  whether  torments 
unutterable  were  to  be  my  portion  for  endless  ages  ! 
But  Justice  suspended  its  decree,  and  Mercy  spoke  in 
accents  of  firmness,  but  mildness,  *  Return  to  that 
world  in  which  thou  hast  lived  but  to  outrage  the 


Legends  of  the  Banshee.  1 8 1 

laws  of  Him  who  made  that  world  and  thee.  Three 
years  are  given  thee  for  repentance ;  when  these  are 
ended,  thou  shalt  again  stand  here,  to  be  saved  or 
lost  for  ever. '  I  heard  no  more ;  I  saw  no  more, 
until  I  awoke  to  life,  the  moment  before  you 
entered." 

Charles's  strength  continued  just  long  enough  to 
finish  these  last  words,  and,  on  uttering  them,  he 
closed  his  eyes,  and  lay  quite  exhausted.  His 
mother,  though,  as  was  before  said,  somewhat  dis- 
posed to  give  credit  to  supernatural  visitations,  yet 
hesitated  whether  or  not  she  should  believe  that, 
although  awakened  from  a  swoon  which  might  have 
been  the  crisis  of  his  disease,  he  w^as  still  under  the 
influence  of  delirium.  Repose,  however,  was  at  all 
events  necessary,  and  she  took  immediate  measures 
that  he  should  enjoy  it  undisturbed.  After  some 
hours'  sleep  he  awoke  refreshed,  and  thenceforward 
gradually  but  steadily  recovered. 

Still  he  persisted  in  his  account  of  the  vision,  as  he 
had  at  first  related  it ;  and  his  persuasion  of  its  reality 
had  an  obvious  and  decided  influence  on  his  habits 
and  conduct.  He  did  not  altogether  abandon  the 
society  of  his  former  associates,  for  his  temper  was 
not  soured  by  his  reformation  ;  but  he  never  joined 
in  their  excesses,  and  often  endeavoured  to  reclaim 
them.  How  his  pious  exertions  succeeded,  I  have 
never  learnt ;  but  of  himself  it  is  recorded  that  he 
was  religious  without  ostentation,  and  temperate 
without  austerity  ;  giving  a  practical  proof  that  vice 
may  be  exchanged  for  virtue,  without  a  loss  of 
respectability,  popularity,  or  happiness. 


1 82  Weird  Tales. 

Time  rolled  on,  and  long  before  the  three  years 
were  ended  the  story  of  his  vision  was  forgotten,  or, 
when  spoken  of,  was  usually  mentioned  as  an  instance 
proving  the  folly  of  believing  in  such  things.  Charles's 
health,  from  the  temperance  and  regularity  of  his 
habits,  became  more  robust  than  ever.  His  friends, 
indeed,  had  often  occasion  to  rally  him  upon  a 
seriousness  and  abstractedness  of  demeanour,  which 
grew  upon  him  as  he  approached  the  completion  of 
his  seven-and-twentieth  year,  but  for  the  most  part 
his  manner  exhibited  the  same  animation  and  cheer- 
fulness for  which  he  had  always  been  remarkable. 
In  company  he  evaded  every  endeavour  to  draw  from 
him  a  distinct  opinion  on  the  subject  of  the  supposed 
prediction  ;  but  among  his  own  family  it  was  well 
known  that  he  still  firmly  believed  it.  However, 
when  the  day  had  nearly  arrived  on  which  the 
prophecy  was,  if  at  all,  to  be  fulfilled,  his  whole 
appearance  gave  such  promise  of  a  long  and  healthy 
life,  that  he  was  persuaded  by  his  friends  to  ask  a 
large  party  to  an  entertainment  at  Spring  House,  to 
celebrate  his  birthday.  But  the  occasion  of  this 
party,  and  the  circumstances  which  attended  it,  will 
be  best  learned  from  a  perusal  of  the  following 
letters,  which  have  been  carefully  preserved  by  some 
relations  of  his  family.  The  first  is  from  Mrs. 
MacCarthy  to  a  lady,  a  very  near  connection  and 
valued  friend  of  hers,  who  lived  in  the  county  of 
Cork,  at  about  fifty  miles'  distance  from  Spring 
House. 


Lege 71  ds  of  tJie  Banshee.  183 

"  TO  MRS.   BARRY,  CASTLE  BARRY. 

"  Spring  House,  Tuesday  AIo ruing, 
"  October  15///,  1752. 

"  My  dearest  Mary, 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  going  to  put  your  affection  for 
your  old  friend  and  kinswoman  to  a  severe  trial. 
A  two  days'  journey  at  this  season,  over  bad  roads 
and  through  a  troubled  country,  it  will  indeed  require 
friendship  such  as  yours  to  persuade  a  sober  woman 
to  encounter.  But  the  truth  is,  I  have,  or  fancy  I 
have,  more  than  usual  cause  for  wishing  you  near  me. 
You  know  my  son's  story.  I  can't  tell  you  how  it 
is,  but  as  next  Sunday  approaches,  when  the  predic- 
tion of  his  dream  or  his  vision  will  be  proved  false 
or  true,  I  feel  a  sickening  of  the  heart,  which  I  cannot 
suppress,  but  which  your  presence,  my  dear  Mary, 
will  soften,  as  it  has  done  so  many  of  my  sorrows. 
My  nephew,  James  Ryan,  is  to  be  married  to  Jane 
Osborne  (who,  you  know,  is  my  son's  ward),  and  the 
bridal  entertainment  will  take  place  here  on  Sunday 
next,  though  Charles  pleaded  hard  to  have  it  post- 
poned a  day  or  two  longer.  Would  to  God— but  no 
more  of  this  till  we  meet.  Do  prevail  upon  yourself 
to  leave  your  good  man  for  o?ie  week,  if  his  farming 
concerns  will  not  admit  of  his  accompanying  you  ; 
and  come  to  us,  with  the  girls,  as  soon  before  Sunday 
as  you  can. 

"  Ever  my  dear  Mary's  attached  cousin  and 
friend, 

"Ann  MacCarthy." 


1 84  Weird  Tales. 

Although  this  letter  reached  Castle  Barry  early  on 
Wednesday,  the  messenger  having  travelled  on  foot 
over  bog  and  moor,  by  paths  impassable  to  horse  or 
carriage,  Mrs.  Barry,  who  at  once  determined  on 
going,  had  so  many  arrangements  to  make  for  the 
regulation  of  her  domestic  affairs  (which,  in  Ireland, 
among  the  middle  orders  of  the  gentry,  fall  soon  into 
confusion  when  the  mistress  of  the  family  is  away), 
that  she  and  her  two  younger  daughters  were  unable 
to  leave  until  late  on  the  morning  of  Friday.  The 
eldest  daughter  remained  to  keep  her  father  company, 
and  superintend  the  concerns  of  the  household.  As 
the  travellers  were  to  journey  in  an  open  one-horse 
vehicle,  called  a  jaunting-car  (still  used  in  Ireland), 
and  as  the  roads,  bad  at  all  times,  were  rendered 
still  worse  by  the  heavy  rains,  it  was  their  design  to 
make  two  easy  stages  ;  to  stop  about  midway  the 
first  night,  and  reach  Spring  House  early  on  Satur- 
day evening.  This  arrangement  was  now  altered, 
as  they  found  that  from  the  lateness  of  their  departure 
they  could  proceed,  at  the  utmost,  no  farther  than 
twenty  miles  on  the  first  day ;  and  they  therefore 
purposed  sleeping  at  the  house  of  a  Mr.  Bourke,  a 
friend  of  theirs,  who  lived  at  somewhat  less  than 
that  distance  from  Castle  Barry.  They  reached  Mr. 
Bourke's  in  safety,  after  rather  a  disagreeable  drive. 
Wliat  befell  them  on  their  journey  the  next  day  to 
Spring  House,  and  after  their  arrival  there,  is  fully 
recounted  in  a  letter  from  the  second  Miss  Barry  to 
her  eldest  sister. 


Legends  of  the  Banshee.  185 

' '  Spring  House,  Simday  Evening, 
''20th  October  1752. 
"  Dear  Ellen, 

"As  my  mother's  letter,  which  encloses  this,  will 
announce  to  you  briefly  the  sad  intelligence  which  I 
shall  here  relate  more  fully,  I  think  it  better  to  go 
regularly  through  the  recital  of  the  extraordinary 
events  of  the  last  two  days. 

"  The  Bourkes  kept  us  up  so  late  on  Friday  night 
that  yesterday  was  pretty  far  advanced  before  we 
could  begin  our  journey,  and  the  day  closed  when 
we  were  nearly  fifteen  miles  distant  from  this  place. 
The  roads  were  excessively  deep,  from  the  heavy 
rains  of  the  last  week,  and  we  proceeded  so  slowly 
that,  at  last,  my  mother  resolved  on  passing  the  night 
at  the  house  of  Mr.  Bourke's  brother  (who  lives  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  the  road),  and  coming  here  to 
breakfast  in  the  morning.  The  day  had  been  windy 
and  showery,  and  the  sky  looked  fitful,  gloomy,  and 
uncertain.  The  moon  was  full,  and  at  times  shone 
clear  and  bright ;  at  others  it  was  wholly  concealed 
behind  the  thick  black  and  rugged  masses  of  clouds 
that  rolled  rapidly  along,  and  were  every  moment 
becoming  larger,  and  collecting  together  as  if  gather- 
ing strength  for  a  coming  storm.  The  wind,  which 
blew  in  our  faces,  whistled  bleakly  along  the  low 
hedges  of  the  narrow  road,  on  which  we  proceeded 
with  difficulty  from  the  number  of  deep  sloughs,  and 
which  afforded  not  the  least  shelter,  no  plantation 
being  within  some  miles  of  us.  My  mother,  there- 
fore, asked  Leary,  who  drove  the  jaunting-car,  how 
far  we  were   from    Mr.   Bourke's.      *  'Tis  about  ten 


1 86  Weird  Tales, 

spades  from  this  to  the  cross,  and  we  have  then  only 
to  turn  to  the  left  into  the  avenue,  ma'am.'  '  Very- 
well,  Leary ;  turn  up  to  Mr.  Bourke's  as  soon  as  you 
reach  the  cross  roads.'  My  mother  had  scarcely 
spoken  these  words,  when  a  shriek,  that  made  us 
thrill  as  if  our  very  hearts  were  pierced  by  it,  burst 
from  the  hedge  to  the  right  of  our  way.  If  it  re-' 
sembled  anything  earthly,  it  seemed  the  cry  of  a 
female,  struck  by  a  sudden  and  mortal  blow,  and 
giving  out  her  life  in  one  long,  deep  pang  of  expiring 
agony.  '  Heaven  defend  us  ! '  exclaimed  my  mother. 
'  Go  you  over  the  hedge,  Leary,  and  save  that 
woman,  if  she  is  not  yet  dead,  while  we  run  back  to 
the  hut  we  just  passed,  and  alarm  the  village  near 
it. '  '  Woman !  *  said  Leary,  beating  the  horse 
violently,  while  his  voice  trembled,  '  that's  no 
woman ;  the  sooner  we  get  on,  ma'am,  the  better ; ' 
and  he  continued  his  efforts  to  quicken  the  horse's 
pace.  We  saw  nothing.  The  moon  was  hid.  It 
was  quite  dark,  and  we  had  been  for  some  time 
expecting  a  heavy  fall  of  rain.  But  just  as  Leary 
had  spoken,  and  had  succeeded  in  making  the  horse 
trot  briskly  forward,  we  distinctly  heard  a  loud  clap- 
ping of  hands,  followed  by  a  succession  of  screams, 
that  seemed  to  denote  the  last  excess  of  despair  and 
anguish,  and  to  issue  from  a  person  running  forward 
inside  the  hedge,  to  keep  pace  with  our  progress. 
Still  we  saw  nothing;  until,  when  we  were  within 
about  ten  yards  of  the  place  where  an  avenue  branched 
off  to  Mr.  Bourke's  to  the  left,  and  the  road  turned  to 
Spring  House  on  the  right,  the  moon  started  suddenly 
from  behind  a  cloud  and  enabled  us  to  see,  as  plainly 


Legends  of  the  Banshee.  187 

as  I  now  see  this  paper,  the  figure  of  a  tall  thin 
woman,  with  uncovered  head,  and  long  hair  that 
floated  round  her  shoulders,  attired  in  something 
which  seemed  either  a  loose  white  cloak  or  a  sheet 
thrown  hastily  about  her.  She  stood  on  the  corner 
hedge,  where  the  road  on  which  we  were  met  that 
which  leads  to  Spring  House,  with  her  face  towards 
us,  her  left  hand  pointing  to  this  place,  and  her  right 
arm  waving  rapidly  and  violently,  as  if  to  draw  us  on 
in  that  direction.  The  horse  had  stopped,  apparently 
frightened  at  the  sudden  presence  of  the  figure,  which 
stood  in  the  manner  I  have  described,  still  uttering 
the  same  piercing  cries,  for  about  half  a  minute.  It 
then  leaped  upon  the  road,  disappeared  from  our  view 
for  one  instant,  and  the  next  was  seen  standing  upon 
a  high  wall  a  little  way  up  the  avenue  on  which  we 
purposed  going,  still  pointing  towards  the  road  to  Spring 
House,  but  in  an  attitude  of  defiance  and  command, 
as  if  prepared  to  oppose  our  passage  up  the  avenue. 
The  figure  was  now  quite  silent,  and  its  garments, 
which  had  before  flown  loosely  in  the  wind,  were 
closely  wrapped  around  it.  '  Go  on,  Leary,  to  Spring 
House,  in  God's  name  ! '  said  my  mother  ;  '  whatever 
world  it  belongs  to,  we  will  provoke  it  no  longer.' 
'  'Tis  the  banshee,  ma'am,'  said  Leary;  'and  I  would 
not,  for  what  my  life  is  worth,  go  anywhere  this 
blessed  night  but  to  Spring  House.  But  I'm  afraid 
there's  something  bad  going  forward,  or  she  would 
not  send  us  there.'  So  saying,  he  drove  forward  ; 
and  as  we  turned  on  the  road  to  the  right,  the  moon 
suddenly  withdrew  its  light,  and  we  saw  the  appari- 
tion   no   more ;    but  we  heard  plainly   a   prolonged 


1 88  Weird  Tales. 

clapping  of  hands,  gradually  dying  away,  as  if  it 
issued  from  a  person  rapidly  retreating.  We  pro- 
ceeded as  quickly  as  the  badness  of  the  roads  and  the 
fatigue  of  the  poor  animal  that  drew  us  would  allow, 
and  arrived  here  about  eleven  o'clock  last  night. 
The  scene  which  awaited  us  you  have  learned  from 
my  mother's  letter.  To  explain  it  fully,  I  must 
recount  to  you  some  of  the  transactions  which  took 
place  here  during  the  last  week. 

' '  You  are  aware  that  Jane  Osborne  was  to  have 
been  married  this  day  to  James  Ryan,  and  that  they 
and  their  friends  have  been  here  for  the  last  week. 
On  Tuesday  last,  the  very  day  on  the  morning  of 
which  cousin  MacCarthy  despatched  the  letter  invit- 
ing us  here,  the  whole  of  the  company  were  walking 
about  the  grounds  a  little  before  dinner.  It  seems 
that  an  unfortunate  creature,  who  had  been  seduced 
by  James  Ryan,  was  seen  prowling  in  the  neighbour- 
hood in  a  moody,  melancholy  state  for  some  days 
previous.  He  had  separated  from  her  for  several 
months,  and,  they  say,  had  provided  for  her  rather 
handsomely ;  but  she  had  been  seduced  by  the  pro- 
mise of  his  marrying  her ;  and  the  shame  of  her 
unhappy  condition,  uniting  with  disappointment  and 
jealousy,  had  disordered  her  intellects.  During  the 
whole  forenoon  of  this  Tuesday  she  had  been  walking 
in  the  plantations  near  Spring  House,  with  her  cloak 
folded  tight  round  her,  the  hood  nearly  covering  her 
face ;  and  she  had  avoided  conversing  wdth  or  even 
meeting  any  of  the  family. 

"  Charles  MacCarthy,  at  the  time  I  mentioned,  was 
walking    between  James   Ryan   and    another,   at    a 


Legends  of  the  BansJiee.  189 

little  distance  from  the  rest,  on  a  gravel  path,  skirting 
a  shrubbery.  The  whole  party  were  thrown  into  the 
utmost  consternation  by  the  report  of  a  pistol,  fired 
from  a  thickly  planted  part  of  the  shrubberj'  which 
Charles  and  his  companions  had  just  passed.  He 
fell  instantly,  and  it  was  found  that  he  had  been 
wounded  in  the  leg.  One  of  the  party  was  a  medical 
man  ;  his  assistance  was  immediately  given,  and,  on 
examining,  he  declared  that  the  injury  was  very 
slight,  that  no  bone  was  broken,  that  it  was  merely 
a  flesh  wound,  and  that  it  would  certainly  be  well 
in  a  few  days.  *  We  shall  know  more  by  Sunday,' 
said  Charles,  as  he  was  carried  to  his  chamber. 
His  wound  was  immediately  dressed,  and  so  slight 
was  the  inconvenience  which  it  gave,  that  several  of 
his  friends  spent  a  portion  of  the  evening  in  his 
apartment. 

"  On  inquiry,  it  was  found  that  the  unlucky  shot 
was  fired  by  the  poor  girl  just  mentioned.  It  was 
also  manifest  that  she  had  aimed,  not  at  Charles,  but 
at  the  destroyer  of  her  innocence  and  happiness,  who 
was  walking  beside  him.  After  a  fruitless  search  for 
her  through  the  grounds,  she  walked  into  the  house 
of  her  own  accord,  laughing  and  dancing  and  singing 
wildly,  and  every  moment  exclaiming  that  she  had 
at  last  killed  Mr.  Ryan.  When  she  heard  that  it 
was  Charles,  and  not  Mr.  Ryan,  who  was  shot,  she 
fell  into  a  violent  fit,  out  of  which,  after  working 
convulsively  for  some  time,  she  sprung  to  the  door, 
escaped  from  the  crowd  that  pursued  her,  and  could 
never  be  taken  until  last  night,  when  she  was  brought 
here,  perfectly  frantic,  a  little  before  our  arrival. 


1 9©  Weird  Tales. 

"  Charles's  wound  was  thought  of  such  little  con- 
sequence that  the  preparations  went  forward,  as 
usual,  for  the  wedding  entertainment  on  Sunday. 
But  on  Friday  night  he  grew  restless  and  feverish, 
and  on  Saturday  (yesterday)  morning  felt  so  ill  that 
it  was  deemed  necessary  to  obtain  additional  medical 
advice.  Two  physicians  and  a  surgeon  met  in  con- 
sultation about  twelve  o'clock  in  the  day,  and  the 
dreadful  intelligence  was  announced,  that  unless  a 
change,  hardly  hoped  for,  took  place  before  night, 
death  must  happen  within  twenty-four  hours  after. 
The  wound,  it  seems,  had  been  too  tightly  bandaged, 
and  otherwise  injudiciously  treated.  The  physicians 
were  right  in  their  anticipations.  No  favourable 
symptom  appeared,  and  long  before  we  reached 
Spring  House  every  ray  of  hope  had  vanished.  The 
scene  we  witnessed  on  our  arrival  would  have  wrung 
the  heart  of  a  demon.  We  heard  briefly  at  the  gate 
that  Mr.  Charles  was  upon  his  death-bed.  When  we 
reached  the  house,  the  information  was  confirmed  by 
the  servant  who  opened  the  door.  But  just  as  we 
entered  we  were  horrified  by  the  most  appalling 
screams  issuing  from  the  staircase.  My  mother 
thought  she  heard  the  voice  of  poor  Mrs.  MacCarthy, 
and  sprung  forward.  We  followed,  and  on  ascending 
a  few  steps  of  the  stairs  we  found  a  young  woman, 
in  a  state  of  frantic  passion,  struggling  furiously  with 
two  men-servants,  whose  united  strength  was  hardly 
sufficient  to  prevent  her  rushing  upstairs  over  the 
body  of  Mrs.  MacCarthy,  who  was  lying  in  strong 
hysterics  upon  the  steps.  This,  I  afterwards  dis- 
covered,  was  the  unhappy  girl  I  before  described, 


Legends  of  the  Bajishee.  1 9 1 

who  was  attempting  to  gain  access  to  Charles's  room, 
to  *  get  his  forgiveness,'  as  she  said,  '  before  he  went 
away  to  accuse  her  for  having  killed  him.'  This 
wild  idea  was  mingled  with  another,  which  seemed 
to  dispute  with  the  former  possession  of  her  mind. 
In  one  sentence  she  called  on  Charles  to  forgive  her, 
in  the  next  she  would  denounce  James  Ryan  as  the 
murderer  both  of  Charles  and  her.  At  length  she 
was  torn  away ;  and  the  last  words  I  heard  her 
scream  were,  'James  Ryan,  'twas  you  killed  him, 
and  not  I — 'twas  you  killed  him,  and  not  I.' 

"  Mrs.  MacCarthy,  on  recovering,  fell  into  the 
arms  of  my  mother,  whose  presence  seemed  a  great 
relief  to  her.  She  wept — the  first  tears,  I  was  told, 
that  she  had  shed  since  the  fatal  accident.  She 
conducted  us  to  Charles's  room,  who,  she  said,  had 
desired  to  see  us  the  moment  of  our  arrival,  as  he 
found  his  end  approaching,  and  wished  to  devote 
the  last  hours  of  his  existence  to  uninterrupted 
prayer  and  meditation.  We  found  him  perfectly 
calm,  resigned,  and  even  cheerful.  He  spoke  of  the 
awful  event  which  was  at  hand  with  courage  and 
confidence,  and  treated  it  as  a  doom  for  which  he 
had  been  preparing  ever  since  his  former  remarkable 
illness,  and  which  he  never  once  doubted  was  truly 
foretold  to  him.  He  bade  us  farewell  with  the  air 
of  one  who  was  about  to  travel  a  short  and  easy 
journey :  and  we  left  him  with  impressions  which, 
notwithstanding  all  their  anguish,  will,  I  trust,  never 
entirely  forsake  us. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  MacCarthy ; — but  I  am  just  called  away. 
There  seems  a  slight  stir  in  the  family  ;  perhaps  " — 


192 


Weird  Tales. 


The  above  letter  was  never  finished.  The  enclo- 
sure to  which  it  more  than  once  alludes  told  the 
sequel  briefly,  and  it  is  all  that  I  have  further 
learned  of  the  family  of  MacCarthy.  Before  the 
sun  had  gone  down  upon  Charles's  seven -and - 
twentieth  birthday,  his  soul  had  gone  to  render  its 
last  account  to  its  Creator. 


THE  FACTION  FIGHTS. 

{From  " Irelajid,  its  Scenery,  Character,"  etc.) 

By  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall. 

Quarrels  descended  from  father  to  son.  There 
was  scarcely  a  district  in  Ireland  that  did  not  recog- 
nise some  hereditaiy  dispute  ;  and  it  became  a  sort  of 
duty  for  a  member  of  one  family  to  insult  the  member 
of  another  family,  whenever  they  chanced  to  meet. 
Every  relation  of  each,  no  matter  how  distant,  was 
expected  to  "stand  by  his  faction  ;  "  and  times  and 
places  were  regularly  appointed  where  they  might 
meet  to  "  fight  it  out ; "  the  majority  of  the  com- 
batants in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  being  utterly  ignorant 
what  they  were  fighting  for,  and  the  leaders  being 
very  seldom  acquainted  with  the  original  cause  of  the 
quarrel. 

The  magistrates  were,  generally,  totally  unable  to 
interrupt  a  fight  when  it  had  begun,  and  usually  failed 
to  prevent  it  after  the  arrangements  for  it  had  been 
made ;  and  we  have  more  than  once  seen  a  parish 
priest — respected  and  beloved  by  his  flock — labouring 
as  vainly  to  establish  peace  among  them  as  if  he  talked 
to  so  many  stocks  or  stones. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  we  witnessed  one 

of  those  disgusting  scenes.     Unhappily,    with   their 

brutality  and   cruelty   was   frequently   mixed    up   so 

much  fun   and   humour  and   physical  courage,    that 

i  N 


T94  Weird  Tales. 

their  revolting  character  was  not  immediately  per- 
ceptible, although  generosity  was  a  rare  ingredient  in 
a  fight,  and  women  too  frequently  mingled. in  it.  We 
must  observe,  however,  that,  in  the  most  ferocious 
encounter,  a  woman  was  seldom  struck — we  might 
also  go  the  length  of  saying,  never— except  by  acci- 
dent. We  recollect  seeing  one  of  "  the  gentler  sex  " 
striking  right  and  left  with  a  terrific  weapon — a  huge 
stone  in  a  stocking-foot — and  noting  several  men 
knocked  down  by  her  blows  without  either  of  them 
aiming  at  her  a  single  one  in  return.  It  used  to 
amaze  us  that  more  lives  were  not  lost  in  such  con- 
tests ;  but  a  man  was  frequently  saved  in  consequence 
of  the  number  of  his  adversaries,  all  beating  at  him 
with  their  sticks,  which  generally  interfered  so  much 
with  each  other  that  few  of  the  blows  reached  him. 
We  call  to  mind  one  fair  in  particular  ;  it  took  place 
in  the  vicinity  of  Ballydehob,  about  thirty  miles  west 
of  the  county  of  Cork,  and  at  a  time  when  there  was 
little  dread  of  interruption.  We  shall  endeavour  to 
describe  it — briefly,  however,  for  the  subject  is  not 
pleasant,  and,  now,  cannot  be  useful  —  with  the 
•'introductory  scene."  Towards  the  afternoon  of  a 
fine  spring  day,  the  rival  factions  began  to  assemble 
— each  armed  with  his  stout  shillalah.  The  leaders 
parleyed  somewhat  before  they  began — not  a  very 
frequent  course ;  they  were  surrounded  by  women 
and  children  ;  and  an  old  hag  seemed  determined 
there  should  be  no  chance  of  peace,  for  she  rated  one 
of  them  with  the  term  "coward."  Actual  hostilities 
were,  however,  commenced  by  a  huge  fellow  running 
through  the  crowd  and  stopping  before  each  man  of 


The  Faction  Fights.  195 

the  opposite  party,  whom  he  greeted  with  the  foul 
phrase  "  liar  :  "  his  purpose  was  soon  answered  ;  one, 
less  patient  than  the  rest,  struck  him  a  blow  ;  their 
sticks  were  crossed,  and  in  a  moment  hundreds  liad 
joined  the  melee.  They  fought  for  above  an  hour — 
and,  at  length,  one  party  was  beaten  off  the  field. 
But,  in  truth,  we  can  do  little  good  by  entering  into 
minute  explanations  of  a  scene  so  revolting  ;  and  we 
shall  prefer  leaving  them  to  the  reader's  fancy  ;  com- 
municating the  attendant  consequences  in  the  less 
disagreeable  form  of  a  story  ;  telling  it,  however,  as 
nearly  as  we  can  call  them  to  mind,  in  the  very  words 
in  which  we  heard  it ;  and  so  carrying  out  our  plan 
of  var)'ing  dry  details  by  the  introduction  of  matter 
more  attractive. 

"  The  faction  fights,  plase  your  honours,"  said  an 
intelligent  countryman  when  spoken  to  by  us  on  the 
subject,  "the  faction  fights  are  a'most,  and  maybe 
more  than  a'most,  gone  off  the  face  of  the  country. 
The  boys  are  beginning  to  talk  about  them  as  things 
they  have  seen — like  a  show  or  a  giant.  We  ask 
each  other  how  we  were  ever  drawn  into  them,  what 
brought  them  about  ;  and  the  one  answer  to  that,  is 
— Whisky  !  No  gun  will  go  off  until  it  is  pri/ncci, 
and  sure  whisky  was  the  priming.  That  made  more 
orphans  and  widows  than  the  fever  or  starvation. 
Thanks  be  to  God,  if  death  come  upon  us  now,  it  is 
by  tlie  Lord's  will,  and  not  our  own  act." 

It  was  encouraging  to  hear  such  a  remark  from  one 
of  "  the  people  ;  "  and  this  was  by  no  means  a  solitary 
instance. 

The  man  had,  he  confessed,  many  a  time  when  a 


196  Weird  Tales. 

mere  child,  incited  by  the  example  of  the  faction  to 
whom  his  parents  belonged,  nerved  his  little  arms  to 
cast  heavy  stones  into  the  melee,  not  caring  how  or 
where  they  fell.  "  We  usen't  to  mind  a  bit  of  a  shindy 
in  those  times :  if  a  boy  was  killed,  why  we  said  it 
was  'his  luck,'  and  that  it  couldn't  be  helped;  if  a 
fellow  trailed  his  coat  over  the  fair  green,  and  dared 
any  one  to  stand  a  foot  on  it,  we  enjoyed  the  fight 
that  was  sure  to  follow,  and  never  thought  or  cared 
how  it  would  end.  Sure  I  remember  my  own  brother 
—  and  now  since  he's  been  a  temperance  man,  he 
hasn't  raised  a  finger  in  anger  to  any  living  creature 
— sure  I  mind  him  well,  feeling  the  tents  for  heads, 
and  when  he'd  get  one  to  his  liking,  giving  it  first  a 
good  rap,  and  then  calling  on  the  owner  to  come  out 
and  fight  him ;  sure  he'd  never  have  done  that  but 
for  the  whisky."  "Ah,"  he  continued,  "that  was  a 
foolish  divarshin,  but  there  was  no  heart  bitterness 
with  it ;  nothing  to  lay  heavy  to  the  end  of  one's 
days.  But  the  faction  fights  war  the  bitterest  of  all 
— black  hatred  descending  from  father  to  son,  against 
the  opposite  faction,  as  if  poor  Ireland  hadn't  enough 
enemies  without  turning — worse  than  a  wild  beast — 
to  murder  and  destroy  her  own  flesh  and  blood.  Now 
there's  a  poor  woman,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  pale, 
patient-looking  person  who  sat  knitting  at  her  cottage 
door,  —  "there's  a  poor  creature!  Mrs.  Lawler 
knows  what  factions  come  to,  and  so  she  ought ; 
she'll  tell  the  lady  her  story  and  welcome,  if  she  has 
any  curiosity  to  hear  it.  Good  morrow-morning  to 
you,  Mrs.  Lawler,  and  how's  your  girleen,  ma'am? 
The  lady  would  be  glad  to  rest  while  the  gentleman 


The  Faction  Fights.  197 

and  I  get  up  the  far  hill ;  and  you  have  always  a 
welcome,  like  your  people  before  you,  for  the 
stranger." 

"Kindly  welcome,"  said  the  widow.  "Mary, 
dust  the  chair,  avourneen." 

The  cabin  was  clean  and  neat,  and  bearing  no 
evidence  of  the  presence  of  that  sad  poverty  we  had 
so  frequently  seen,  though  it  did  not  dim  the  smile  or 
lessen  the  welcome ;  nor  was  it  difficult  to  lead  the 
widow  to  the  story  of  sorrows,  which,  however 
softened  by  time,  were  ever  uppermost  in  her  mind. 

' '  My  mother  and  myself  were  widowed  by  factions 
— plase  God  my  little  girl  won't  have  the  same  tale  to 
tell,  for  the  Connels  and  the  Lawlers  might  put  salt 
to  each  other's  potatoes  without  fear  of  fighting,  now. 
It  was  a  shocking  thing  to  see  the  arm  of  brother 
raised  against  brother,  only  because  as  battle  and 
murder  war  in  the  hearts  of  their  forefathers  they 
must  be  continued  in  their  own. 

"I  was  born  a  Connel,  and  almost  the  first  thing 
I  learned  was  to  hate  a  Lawler,  from  the  lip  out ;  and 
yet  hard  fortune  was  before  me,  for  the  very  first 
passion  my  heart  felt  was  the  same  love  it  feels  still, 
for  a  Lawler  ;  it  has  known  no  change,  though  it  has 
known  sorrow  ;  the  first  knowledge  I  had  of  the  wild 
beatings  of  my  own  heart  was  when  I  saw  that  girl's 
father.  Ah  yah  !  it  has  beat  with  joy  and  terror 
often  ;  but  the  love  for  my  first  love,  and  my  last,  was 
always  one  ;  and  now,  when  all  is  past  and  gone,  and 
that  you,  Mark  Lawler,  are  in  your  green,  quiet 
grave,  I  am  prouder  to  have  been  the  choice  of  your 
own  fine  noble  spirit,  than  if  I  was  made  this  moment 


1 98  Weird  Tales. 

the  queen  of  all  Ireland's  ground.  Oh,  lady  !  if  you 
could  have  seen  him!  'Norah,'  said  my  father  to 
me,  and  I  winnowing  at  our  barn  door  with  the 
servant-maid,  '  Norah,  keep  your  eyes  on  the  grain, 
and  not  after  the  chaff,  and  don't  raise  them  above 
the  hedge,  for  there's  many  a  Lawler  will  be  passing 
the  road  this  day  on  account  of  the  fair,  and  I  don't 
wish  a  child  of  mine  to  notice  them,  or  to  be  noticed 
by  them.'  I  intended  to  do  his  bidding,  and  when- 
ever I  heard  a  horse,  or  the  voices  of  strangers  coming 
down  the  boreen,  I  kept  my  eyes  on  the  grain,  and 
let  the  chaff  fly  at  its  pleasure,  until  a  dog  broke 
through  the  hedge,  and  attacked  a  little  beast  of  my 
own  ;  so  as  soon  as  that  came  to  pass,  I  let  the  sieve 
fall,  to  catch  my  own  little  dog  in  my  arms ;  there 
was  no  need  for  that,  for  he  was  over  the  hedge, 
lighter  and  brighter  than  a  sunbeam.  Ah,  then,  I 
wonder  is  love  as  quick  at  taking  in  all  countries  as 
it  is  here  ?  Mark  Lawler  didn't  speak  ten  words,  nor 
I  two  ;  and  yet  from  that  out — under  the  bames  of 
the  moon  or  the  sun,  in  the  open  field  or  in  the 
crowd,  it  was  all  one  ;  no  one  but  Mark  Lawler  was 
in  my  mind.  I  knew  he  was  a  Lawler  by  his  eyes, 
and  well  he  knew  I  was  a  Connel ;  but  the  love 
would  have  little  of  boy  and  girl  love  in  it  that  would 
heed  a  faction.  We,  who  had  never  met  till  that 
moment,  could  never  go  astray  in  the  fields  without 
meeting  after.  Ah  !  Mary,"  she  continued,  address- 
ing her  daughter,  and  yet,  in  her  simplicity,  quite 
forgetting  she  had  been  proving  the  uselessness  of 
precept  by  her  own  confession;  *'ah,  Mary  dear,  if 
ye  feel  yer  heart  soften  towards  a  young  man,  keep 


The  Faction  Fights.  199 

out  of  his  May  intirely,  avourneen ;  have  nothing  to 
say  to  him,  don't  drive  your  cow  the  same  road  he 
walks,  nor  draw  water  from  the  same  well,  nor  go  to 
the  same  chapel,  Mary,  barrin'  you  have  no  other  to 
go  to  :  there's  a  deal  of  mischief  in  the  chapel,  dear, 
because  you  think  in  your  innocence  you're  giving 
your  thoughts  to  God,  and  all  the  time,  maybe,  it's  to 
an  idol  of  your  own  making,  my  darling  child,  they'd 
be  going ;  sure  your  mother's  sorrow  ought  to  be  a 
warning,  avourneen  ! " 

"Yes,  mother,"  replied  the  blue-eyed  girl  meekly. 

"Well,  lady,  my  poor  father  thought  I  grew  very 
attentive  intirely  to  the  young  lambs,  and  watchful 
over  the  flax ;  but  at  last  some  of  the  Connels 
whispered  how  it  was,  that  Mark  Lawler  met  his 
child  unknownst ;  and  he  questioned  me,  and  I  told 
the  truth,  how  I  had  given  my  heart  out  of  my  bosom, 
and  I  fell  at  his  feet,  and  cried  salt  and  bitter  tears 
until  they  dropped  upon  the  ground  he  stood  on ;  and 
seeing  his  heart  was  turning  to  iron,  I,  who  had  ever 
been  like  a  willow  in  his  hand,  roused  myself,  and 
challenged  him  to  say  a  word  to  Mark's  disadvantage. 
I  said  he  was  sober,  honest,  industrious,  and  my 
father  was  struck  with  the  strength  of  the  heart  I  took, 
and  listened,  until  at  last  he  made  answer,  that  if  a 
saint  from  heaven  came  down,  and  was  a  Lawler,  he 
would  not  give  him  a  drop  of  water  to  wet  his  lips. 
He  threatened  me  with  his  curse  if  I  kept  true  in  my 
love,  and  thought  to  settle  the  thing  out  of  hand  by 
marrying  me  to  my  own  second  cousin  ;  but  that  I 
wouldn't  hear  to ;  God  knows  I  did  not  mean  to  cross 
him,  but  what  could  I  do  ?     Mark  sent  to  ask  me  to 


200  Weird  Tales. 

bid  him  farewell,  or  his  heart  would  break  ;  I  thought 
there  could  be  no  harm  in  blessing  him,  and  telling 
him  to  think  of  me  no  more.  Mary,  avourneen,"  she 
said,  again  addressing  her  daughter,  "if  ye  really 
want  to  break  off  at  once  with  a  young  man,  take 
warning  by  me." 

"  Yes,  mother,"  was  again  Mary's  gentle  reply. 

"At  that  meeting  we  agreed  to  meet  again ;  and 
so  we  did,  until  we  got  a  priest  to  make  us  one.  At 
first  I  was  happy  as  a  young  bird  ;  but  soon  my  heart 
felt  crushed,  for  I  had  to  carry  two  faces.  My  father 
was  more  bitter  than  ever  against  the  Lawlers  ;  and 
my  brother,  'Dark  Connel,'  as  he  was  called,  more 
cruel  than  my  father.  At  last  I  was  forced  to  own 
that  I  was  married.  I  watched  the  time  when  my 
brother  was  away ;  for  one  storm  was  as  much  as  I 
could  bear.  My  father  cast  me  like  a  dog  from  the 
hearth  I  had  played  on  when  a  child ;  in  his  fury  he 
knelt  to  curse  me,  but  my  mother  held  a  gospel  against 
liis  lips ;  so  I  was  saved  his  curse.  The  arms  of  a 
loving  husband  were  open  for  me  ;  and  until  the 
midsummer  fair  I  thought  my  happiness  was  sure.  I 
worked  hard  to  keep  Mark  from  it,  for  the  factions 
were  sure  to  meet  there  ;  he  swore  to  me  that  he 
would  not  raise  a  finger  against  my  father  or  brother, 
nor  let  a  drop  of  spirits  pass  his  lips.  I  walked  with 
him  a  piece  of  the  way,  and  I  thought  all  pleasure  in 
sight  left  my  eyes  when  he  waved  the  last  wave  of 
his  hat  on  the  top  of  the  hill.  As  I  was  turning  into 
our  own  field,  a  lark  was  rising  above  its  nest,  singing 
its  glory  to  the  heavens  in  its  sweet  voice,  when  a  shot 
from  the  gun  of  one  of  those  squireens  who  are  thick 


The  Faction  Fights.  201 

among  the  leaves  as  spiders'  webs,  struck  the  bird, 
and  it  fell  quivering  and  bleeding  close  to  where  I 
knew  its  nest  was  in  the  corn.  I  opened  the  bending 
grain  to  see  if  I  could  find  it ;  it  was  lying  quite  dead, 
and  its  poor  mate  standing  close  by.  The  lark  is  a 
timid  thing,  but  she  never  minded  me,  and  my 
heart  felt  so  sick,  that  I  went  into  my  house  crying 
bitterly. 

"  I  could  not  rest ;  I  thought  in  a  few  hours  I 
might  be  like  that  innocent  bird;  and  taking  my  cloak 
about  me,  I  walked  on  and  on,  until  I  came  in  sight 
of  the  fair  green.  It  was  a  woful  sight  to  me — the 
shouts  of  the  showmen,  the  scream  of  the  sellers,  the 
lowing  of  cattle  and  bleating  of  sheep,  were  all  mixed 
together — while  the  yell  of  the  factions,  eveiy  now 
and  again,  drowned  everything  in  its  horrid  sound, 
I  knew  my  own  father's  voice  as  he  shouted,  '  Hurro(  > 
for  the  Connels  ! — down  with  the  Lawlers  ! '  I  saw 
him  standing  before  Mark,  aggravating  him.  My 
husband's  hands  were  clenched,  and  he  kept  his  arms 
close  by  his  side  that  he  might  not  strike.  I  prayed 
that  God  might  keej)  him  in  that  mind,  and  flew 
towards  them.  Just  as  I  dropped  on  my  knees  by 
his  side,  he  had  raised  his  arm  —  not  against  my 
father,  but  against  my  brother,  who  had  drawn  the 
old  man  back  ;  and  there  they  stood  face  to  face — the 
two  young  heads  of  the  old  factions — blows  were 
exchanged,  for  Mark  had  been  aggravated  beyond  all 
bearing ;  and  I  was  trying  to  force  myself  between 
them,  when  I  saw  my  father  stretched  upon  the  green, 
in  the  very  hour  and  act  of  revenge  and  sin.  It  was 
by  a  blow  from  a  Lawler — the  old  man  never  spoke 


202  Weird  Tales. 

another  word — and  the  suddenness  of  his  death  (for 
he  was  liked  by  the  one  and  hated  by  the  other)  struck 
a  terror  in  them  all — the  sticks  fell  to  their  sides — 
and  the  great  storm  of  oaths  and  voices  sunk  into  a 
murmur  while  they  looked  on  the  dying  man. 

*'  Oh  !  bitter,  heart  bitter,  was  my  sorrow.  I 
shrouded  my  father  with  my  arms,  but  he  didn't  feel 
me ;  the  feeling  had  left  his  limbs,  and  the  light  his 
eyes  ;  however  hard  his  words  had  been,  the  know- 
ledge that  I  was  fatherless,  and  my  mother  a  widow, 
made  me  forget  them  all  !  While  some  of  the  neigh- 
bours ran  for  a  priest,  and  others  raised  the  ay,  my 
brother — darker  than  ever  I  had  seen  him — fell  upon 
his  knees,  and  dipping  his  hand  in  the  warm  blood 
that  poured  from  the  old  man's  wounds,  held  it  up  in 
the  sight  of  the  Connels.  'Boys,'  he  shouted,  and 
his  voice  was  like  the  howl  of  a  wild  beast — *  Boys  ! 
by  this  blood  I  swear  never  to  make  peace  till  the 
hour  of  my  death  with  one  of  the  name  who  have 
clone  this,  but  to  hackle  and  rive,  and  destroy  all 
belonging  to  the  Lawlers.' 

"And  the  women  who  war  about  me  cried  out  at 
my  brother,  and  said,  sure  his  sister  was  a  Connel ; 
but  he  looked  at  me  worse  than  if  I  was  a  sarpent, 
and  resting  his  hand — wet  as  it  was — upon  my  head, 
turned  away,  saying,  '  She  is  marked  with  her  father  s 
blood  in  the  sight  of  the  people.^ 

"  I  thought  I  should  have  died,  and  when  I  came 
to  myself  I  found  I  was  in  a  poor  woman's  cabin,  as 
good  as  half-way  home,  with  two  or  three  of  the 
neighbours  about  me  ;  and  my  husband,  the  very 
moral  of  a  broken  heart,  by  my  side.      '  Avourneen 


The  Faction  Fights.  203 

y;ra  ! '  he  said,  striving  to  keep  down  the  workings  of 
his  heart — '  Avourneen  gra  !  I  had  no  hand  in  it  at 
all.  God  knows  I  wouldn't  have  hurt  a  hair  of  his 
white  head.'  I  knew  it  was  the  truth  he  was  telling, 
yet  somehow  the  words  of  my  brother  clung  about 
me — I  was  marked  with  7)iy  father  s  blood. 

"  And  the  Connels  put  the  old  man's  corpse  upon  a 
cart,  and  laid  a  clean  white  cloth  over  it,  and  carried 
him  past  my  own  little  place — keening  over  it  and 
cursing  the  hand  that  gave  him  his  death  :  hundreds 
of  the  neighbours  mixed  with  my  own  people,  my 
widowed  mother  and  my  dark  brother  following  ;  and 
so  they  passed  by  our  door  ;  for  miles  along  the  road 
I  could  hear  the  loud  scream  of  the  mother  that  bore 
me,  high  above  the  voices  of  all  the  rest.  Oh  !  it  was 
a  horrid  sound  and  a  horrid  sight ! 

"  His  death  was  talked  of  far  and  near  ;  the  magis- 
trates set  to  putting  down  the  factions,  and  the  priest 
gave  out  from  the  altar,  Sunday  after  Sunday,  such 
commands,  that,  without  flying  in  his  reverence's  face, 
they  could  not  keep  on  at  the  fights  in  public  ;  every 
innocent  diversion  through  the  country  was  stopped 
on  their  account ;  but  though  there  was  outward 
peace,  yet  day  after  day  I  was  followed  by  the  spirit 
of  my  brother's  words  ;  the  world  wouldn't  put  it  out 
of  his  head  that  Mark  struck  the  mortal  blow,  and 
he  turned  his  ear  from  me,  and  from  his  own  mother, 
and  would  not  believe  the  truth. 

"  For  as  good  as  two  years,  the  husband,  whose 
life  was  the  life-beat  of  my  worn-out  heart,  seldom 
left  the  cabin  without  my  thinking  he  would  never 
come  back.     I'd  wait  till  he  was  a  few  yards  from 


204  Weird  Tales. 

the  door,  and  then  steal  out  to  watch  him  till  he  was 
out  of  sight.  At  ploughing  or  haymaking  or  reap- 
ing, his  whistle  would  come  over  the  little  hill  to  me, 
while  I  sat  at  my  wheel,  as  clear  as  a  blackbird's  ; 
and  if  it  stopped  but  for  a  minute,  my  heart  would 
sink  like  death ;  and  it's  to  the  door  I'd  be.  If  I 
woke  in  the  night,  I  could  not  go  to  sleep  again 
without  my  arm  across  his  shoulder  to  feel  that  he 
was  safe ;  and  my  first  and  last  prayer  to  the  Almighty, 
night  and  morning,  was  for  him. 

"  My  brother  was  very  fond  of  children,  and  though 
he  had  gone  to  live  at  the  other  side  of  the  parish,  I 
managed  to  meet  him  one  evening  and  place  little 
]\Iary  before  him ;  but  his  face  darkened  so  over  the 
child,  that  I  was  afraid  she  might  be  struck  with  an 
evil  eye,  and,  making  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  her,  I 
covered  her  from  his  sight  with  my  cloak  :  after  that 
I  knew  nothing  would  turn  his  hatred,  except  the 
grace  of  God ;  and  though  I  wished  that  he  might 
have  it,  whenever  I  tried  to  pray  for  it  for  him,  my 
blood  turned  cold.  I've  often  thought,"  she  continued, 
after  a  pause,  "  what  a  blessing  it  is  that  we  have  no 
knowledge  of  the  sorrow  we're  born  to ;  for  if  we 
had,  we  could  not  bear  life.  I  had  that  knowledge  ; 
IMark  never  smiled  on  me  that  I  did  not  feel  my  flesh 
creep,  lest  it  should  be  his  last.  He'd  tell  sometimes 
of  how  things  were  mending,  how  there  was  much 
bitterness  going  out  of  the  country  ;  and  though  there 
was  no  talk  of  temperance  then,  he  saw  plain  enough, 
that  if  men  would  keep  from  whisky  they'd  forget  to 
be  angry.  And  every  minute,  even  while  I  trembled 
for  the  life  of  his  body,  the  peace  and  love  that  was 


The  Fnctio7i  Fights.  205 

in  him  made  me  easy  as  to  the  life  of  his  soul.  At 
last  I  persuaded  him  to  leave  the  country ;  a  new 
hope  came  to  me,  strong  and  bright,  and  I  thought 
we  might  get  away  to  America,  and  that,  maybe, 
then  he'd  have  a  chance  of  living  all  the  days  that 
were  allotted  at  his  birth.  I  did  not  tell  him  that, 
but  having  got  his  consent,  I  worked  night  and  day 
to  get  off :  it  was  all  settled  ;  the  day  fixed ;  and 
none  of  the  neighbours,  barrin'  one  or  two  of  the 
Lawlers,  knew  it,  and  I  knew  my  brother  would  not 
hear  it  from  them  ;  and  then  my  mother  lived  with 
him.  The  evening  before  the  day  was  come ;  that 
time  to-morrow  we  were  to  be  on  shipboard.  *  I'll 
go,'  says  my  husband,  *  I'll  go  to  the  priest  this 
evening,  who  christened,  confirmed,  and  married  me, 
and  who  knows  all  that  was  in  me  from  the  time  I 
was  born  ;  his  blessing  will  be  a  guard  over  us,  and 
we'll  go  together  to  his  knee. ' 

"We  went;  and  though  the  parting  was  sad,  it 
was  sweet  :  we  walked  homewards — both  our  hearts 
full.  At  last  Mark  said,  that  only  for  me  he'd  never 
have  thought  of  leaving  the  old  sod ;  but,  maybe,  it 
would  be  for  the  best.  I  opened  my  mind  to  him 
then  inth-ely,  attd  owned  more  than  ever  1  had  done 
before^  how  the  dread  of  the  factions  had  disturbed 
me  day  and  night ;  though  I  did  not  tell  him  how  my 
fathers  blood  had  been  laid  on  fne  by  my  07vn  brother. 
He  laughed  at  me — his  gay,  wild  laugh — and  said  he 
hoped  my  trouble  was  gone  like  the  winter's  snow. 
Now,  this  is  a  simple  thing,  and  yet  it  always  struck 
me  as  mighty  strange  intirely ;  we  were  walking 
through  a  field,  and,  God  help  me,  it  was  a  weak 


2o6  Weird  Tales. 

woman's  fancy,  but  I  never  thought  any  harm  could 
come  to  him  when  I  was  with  him,  and  all  of  a  sudden 
— started,  maybe,  at  his  laugh — a  lark  sprung  up  at 
our  feet ;  we  both  watched  it,  stopped  to  watch  it, 
about  three  yards  from  the  ditch,  and  while  it  was  yet 
clear  in  sight,  a  whiz — a  flash  as  of  lightning — the 
sound  of  death — and  my  husband  was  a  corpse  at  my 
feet." 

The  poor  woman  flung  her  apron  over  her  face 
to  conceal  her  agitation,  while  she  sobbed  bitterly. 
"The  spirit  of  the  factions,"  she  continued,  "was 
in  that  fatal  shot.  Oh  that  he,  my  blessing  and  my 
pride,  should  have  been  struck  in  the  hour  of  hope ! 
Oh,  Mark  !  jNIark  !  long  ago  you,  that  I  loved  so 
well,  were  turned  into  clay — many  a  long  day  ago  ; 
and  still  I  think  when  I  sit  on  your  green  grass  grave 
I  can  hear  your  voice  telling  me  of  your  happiness  ; 
the  heart  of  the  youngest  maid  was  not  more  free 
from  spot  than  yours,  my  own  darling  !  And  to  think 
that  one  of  my  own  blood  should  have  taken  you 
from  my  side.  Oh,  then  it  was  I  who  felt  the  curse 
of  blood  !  " 

"And  was  it — was  it?"  we  would  have  asked, 
"  was  it  your  brother  ?  " 

"  Whisht !"  she  whispered — "Whisht,  avourneen, 
whisht !  he's  in  his  grave,  too — though  I  didti't  inform — 
I  left  him  to  God.  When  I  came  to  myself,  the  place 
around — the  very  sky  where  the  lark  and  his  soul  had 
mounted  together — looked  dismal,  btit  not  so  dark  as 
the  dark-faced  man  who  did  it :  he  had  no  power  to 
leave  the  spot ;  he  was  fixed  there  ;  something  he 
said  about  his  father  and  revenge.     God  help  me  ! 


The  Faction  Fights.  207 

sure  we  war  nursed  at  the  same  breast.  No  one  kiir,o 
it  but  mc  ;  so  I  left  him  to  God — I  left  him  to  God  ! 
And  he  withered,  lady  !  he  withered  off  the  face  of 
the  earth  —  withered,  my  mother  told  me,  away, 
away — he  was  eat  to  death  by  his  conscience !  Oh, 
who  would  think  a  faction  could  end  in  such  a  crime 
as  that ! 

"  Ah  !  people  who  live  among  the  flowers  of  the 
earth  know  little  of  the  happiness  I  have  in  taking 
my  child,  and  sitting  beside  her  on  her  father's  grave ; 
and  as  month  afther  month  goes  by,  I  cant  but  feel 
Fm  all  the  sooner  to  be  with  him  !  "  When  she  said 
this,  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  for  her  daughter ; 
the  poor  girl  cast  such  a  piteous  look  upon  her 
mother,  and  at  last,  unable  to  control  herself,  flung 
her  arms  tightly  round  her  neck,  as  though  she  would 
keep  her  there  for  ever. 

Again  and  again  did  her  mother  return  her  caresses 
— ^murmuring,  "My  colleen-das  will  never  be  widowed 
by  faction  now  ;  the  spirit  is  all  gone,  praise  be  to  the 
Lord  :  and  so  I  tell  him  when  I  sit  upon  his  grave." 


THE  DRUNKARD'S  DREAM. 

"  All  this  Jie  told  with  some  confusion  and 
Dismay,  the  usual  consequence  of  dreams 
Of  the  unpleasant  kind,  with  none  at  hand 
To  expound  their  vain  and  visionary  gleams. 
I've  known  some  odd  ones  which  seemed  really  planned 
Prophetically,  as  that  which  one  deems 
*  A  strange  coincidence,'  to  use  a  phrase 
By  which  such  things  are  settled  now-a-days." 

— Byron. 

Dreams — What  age,  or  what  country  of  the  world 
has  not  felt  and  acknowledged  the  mystery  of  their 
origin  and  end  ?  I  have  thought  not  a  Httle  upon  the 
subject,  seeing  it  is  one  which  has  been  often  forced 
upon  my  attention,  and  sometimes  strangely  enough  ; 
and  yet  I  have  never  arrived  at  anything  which  at 
all  appeared  a  satisfactory  conclusion.  It  does  appear 
that  a  mental  phenomenon  so  extraordinary  cannot 
be  wholly  without  its  use.  We  know,  indeed,  that 
in  the  olden  times  it  has  been  made  the  organ  of  com- 
munication between  the  Deity  and  His  creatures  ;  and 
when,  as  I  have  seen,  a  dream  produces  upon  a  mind, 
to  all  appearance  hopelessly  reprobate  and  depraved, 
an  effect  so  powerful  and  so  lasting  as  to  break  down 
the  inveterate  habits,  and  to  reform  the  life  of  an 
abandoned  sinner,  we  see  in  the  result,  in  the  re- 
formation of  morals,  which  appeared  incorrigible  in 
the  reclamation  of  a  human  soul  which  seemed  to  be 

irretrievably  lost,  something  more  than  could  be  pro- 
208 


The  Drunkard's  D?'eani.  209 

duced  by  a  mere  chimcera  of  the  slumbering  fancy, 
something  more  than  could  arise  from  the  capricious 
images  of  a  terrified  imagination;  but  once  prevented, 
we  behold  in  all  these  things,  in  the  tremendous  and 
mysterious  results,  the  operation  of  the  hand  of  God. 
And  while  Reason  rejects  as  absurd  the  superstition 
which  will  read  a  prophecy  in  every  dream,  she  may, 
without  violence  to  herself,  recognise,  even  in  the 
wildest  and  most  incongruous  of  the  wanderings  of  a 
slumbering  intellect,  the  evidences  and  the  fragments 
of  a  language  which  may  be  spoken,  which  has  been 
spoken  to  terrify,  to  warn,  and  to  command.  We 
have  reason  to  believe  too,  by  the  promptness  of 
action,  which  in  the  age  of  the  prophets  followed  all 
intimations  of  this  kind,  and  by  the  strength  of  con- 
viction and  strange  permanence  of  the  effects  resulting 
from  certain  dreams  in  latter  times,  which  effects 
ourselves  may  have  witnessed,  that  when  this  medium 
of  communication  has  been  employed  by  the  Deity, 
the  evidences  of  His  presence  have  been  unequivocal. 
My  thoughts  were  directed  to  this  subject,  in  a 
manner  to  leave  a  lasting  impression  upon  my  mind, 
by  the  events  which  I  shall  now  relate,  the  statement 
of  which,  however  extraordinary,  is  nevertheless 
accurately  con-ecf. 

About  the  year  17 ,  having  been  appointed  to 

the  living  of  C h,  I  rented  a  small  house  in  the 

town  which  bears  the  same  name  :  one  morning,  in 
the  month  of  November,  I  was  awakened  before  my 
usual  time,  by  my  servant,  who  bustled  into  my  bed- 
room for  the  purpose  of  announcing  a  sick  call.  As 
the  Catholic  Church  holds  her  last  rites  to  be  totally 
i  O 


2IO  Weird  Tales. 

indispensable  to  the  safety  of  the  departing  sinner,  no 
conscientious  clergyman  can  afford  a  moment's  un- 
necessary delay,  and  in  little  more  than  five  minutes  I 
stood  ready  cloaked  and  booted  for  the  road  in  the 
small  front  parlour,  in  which  the  messenger,  who  was 
to  act  as  my  guide,  awaited  my  coming.  I  found  a 
poor  little  girl  crying  piteously  near  the  door,  and 
after  some  slight  difficulty  I  ascertained  that  her  father 
was  either  dead  or  just  dying. 

"And  what  maybe  your  father's  name,  my  poor 
child  ? "  said  I.  She  held  down  her  head,  as  if 
ashamed.  I  repeated  the  question,  and  the  wretched 
little  creature  burst  into  floods  of  tears,  still  more 
bitter  than  she  had  shed  before.  At  length,  almost 
provoked  by  conduct  which  appeared  to  me  so  un- 
reasonable, I  began  to  lose  patience,  spite  of  the  pity 
which  I  could  not  help  feeling  towards  her,  and  I  said 
rather  harshly,  "  If  you  will  not  tell  me  the  name  of 
the  person  to  whom  you  would  lead  me,  your  silence 
can  arise  from  no  good  motive,  and  I  might  be  justified 
in  refusing  to  go  with  you  at  all." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,  don't  say  that,"  cried  she. 
"  Oh,  sir,  it  was  that  I  was  afeard  of  when  I  would 
not  tell  you  —  I  was  afeard  when  you  heard  his 
name  you  would  not  come  with  me  ;  but  it  is  no  use 
hidin'  it  now— it's  Pat  Connell,  the  carpenter,  your 
honour." 

She  looked  in  my  face  with  the  most  earnest 
anxiety,  as  if  her  very  existence  depended  upon  what 
she  should  read  there  ;  but  I  relieved  her  at  once. 
The  name,  indeed,  was  most  unpleasantly  familiar  to 
me  ;  but,  however  fruitless  my  visits  and  advice  might 


The  Drunkard's  Dream.  2 1 1 

have  been  at  another  time,  the  present  was  too 
fearful  an  occasion  to  suffer  my  doubts  of  their  utility 
as  my  reluctance  to  reattempting  what  appeared  a 
hopeless  task  to  weigh  even  against  the  lightest 
chance,  that  a  consciousness  of  his  imminent  danger 
might  produce  in  him  a  more  docile  and  tractable 
disposition.  Accordingly  I  told  the  child  to  lead 
the  way,  and  followed  her  in  silence.  She  hurried 
rapidly  through  the  long  narrow  street  which  forms 
the  great  thoroughfare  of  the  town.  The  darkness  of 
the  hour,  rendered  still  deeper  by  the  close  approach 
of  the  old-fashioned  houses,  which  lowered  in  tall 
obscurity  on  either  side  of  the  way  ;  the  damp,  dreaiy 
chill  which  renders  the  advance  of  morning  pecu- 
liarly cheerless,  combined  with  the  object  of  my  walk, 
to  visit  the  death-bed  of  a  presumptuous  sinner, 
to  endeavour,  almost  against  my  own  conviction,  to 
infuse  a  hope  into  the  heart  of  a  dying  reprobate — a 
drunkard,  but  too  probably  perishing  under  the  con- 
sequences of  some  mad  fit  of  intoxication ;  all  these 
circumstances  united  served  to  enhance  the  gloom  and 
solemnity  of  my  feelings,  as  I  silently  followed  my 
little  guide,  who  with  quick  steps  traversed  the  uneven 
pavement  of  the  main  street.  After  a  walk  of  about 
five  minutes,  she  turned  off  into  a  narrow  lane,  of  that 
obscure  and  comfortless  class  which  are  to  be  found 
in  almost  all  small  old-fashioned  towns, — chill  with- 
out ventilation,  reeking  with  all  manner  of  offensive 
efduvice,  ding)',  smoky,  sickly,  and  pent-up  buildings, 
frequently  not  only  in  a  wretched  but  in  a  dangerous 
condition. 

"  Your  father  has  changed  his  abode  since  I  last 


212  Weird  Tales. 

visited  him,  and,  I  am  afraid,  much  for  the  worse," 
said  I. 

"  Indeed  he  has,  sir,  but  we  must  not  complain," 
replied  she;  "we  have  to  thank  God  that  we  have 
lodging  and  food,  though  it's  poor  enough,  it  is,  your 
honour." 

Poor  child  !  thought  I,  how  many  an  older  head 
might  learn  v/isdom  from  thee — how  many  a  luxurious 
philosopher,  who  is  skilled  to  preach  but  not  to  suffer, 
might  not  thy  patient  words  put  to  the  blush  !  The 
manner  and  language  of  this  child  were  alike  above 
her  years  and  station  ;  and,  indeed,  in  all  cases  in 
which  the  cares  and  sorrows  of  life  have  anticipated 
their  usual  date,  and  have  fallen,  as  they  sometimes 
do,  with  melancholy  prematurity  to  the  lot  of  child- 
hood, I  have  observed  the  result  to  have  proved 
uniformly  the  same.  A  young  mind,  to  which  joy 
and  indulgence  have  been  strangers,  and  to  which 
suffering  and  self-denial  have  been  familiarized  from 
the  first,  acquires  a  solidity  and  an  elevation  which  no 
other  discipline  could  have  bestowed,  and  which,  in 
the  present  case,  communicated  a  striking  but  mourn- 
ful peculiarity  to  the  manners,  even  to  the  voice  of  the 
child.  We  paused  before  a  narrow,  crazy  door,  which 
she  opened  by  means  of  a  latch,  and  we  forthwith 
began  to  ascend  the  steep  and  broken  stairs  which  led 
upwards  to  the  sick  man's  room.  As  we  mounted  flight 
after  flight  towards  the  garret  floor,  I  heard  more  and 
more  distinctly  the  hurried  talking  of  many  voices. 
I  could  also  distinguish  the  low  sobbing  of  a  female. 
On  arriving  upon  the  uppermost  lobby,  these  sounds 
became  fully  audible. 


The  Drunkard's  Drea7n.  213 

* '  This  way,  your  honour,"  said  my  little  conductress, 
at  the  same  time  pushing  open  a  door  of  patched  and 
half-rotten  plank,  she  admitted  me  into  the  squalid 
chamber  of  death  and  misery.  But  one  candle,  held 
in  the  fingers  of  a  scared  and  haggard-looking  child, 
was  burning  in  the  room,  and  that  so  dim  that  all 
was  twilight  or  darkness  except  within  its  immediate 
influence.  The  general  obscurity,  however,  served  to 
throw  into  prominent  and  startling  relief  the  death- 
bed and  its  occupant.  The  light  was  nearly  approxi- 
mated to,  and  fell  with  horrible  clearness  upon,  the 
blue  and  swollen  features  of  the  drunkard.  I  did  not 
think  it  possible  that  a  human  countenance  could  look 
so  terrific.  The  lips  were  black  and  drawn  apart — 
the  teeth  were  firmly  set — the  eyes  a  little  unclosed, 
and  nothing  but  the  whites  appearing — every  feature 
was  fixed  and  livid,  and  the  whole  face  wore  a  ghastly 
and  rigid  expression  of  despairing  terror  such  as  I 
never  saw  equalled  ;  his  hands  were  crossed  upon  his 
breast,  and  firmly  clenched,  while,  as  if  to  add  to  the 
corpse-like  effect  of  the  whole,  some  white  cloths, 
dipped  in  water,  were  wound  about  the  forehead 
and  temples.  As  soon  as  I  could  remove  my  eyes 
from  this  horrible   spectacle,    I    observed  my  friend 

Dr.   D ,   one  of  the  most  humane  of  a  humane 

profession,  standing  by  the  bedside.  He  had  been 
attempting,  but  unsuccessfully,  to  bleed  the  patient, 
and  had  now  applied  his  finger  to  the  pulse. 

' '  Is  there  any  hope  ?  "  I  inquired  in  a  whisper. 

A  shake  of  the  head  was  the  reply.  There  was  a 
pause  while  he  continued  to  hold  the  wrist ;  but  he 
waited  in  vain  for  the  throb  of  life,  it  was  not  there, 


214  Weird  Tales. 

and  when  he  let  go  the  hand  it  fell  stiffly  back  into  its 
former  position  upon  the  other. 

"The  man  is  dead,"  said  the  physician,  as  he 
turned  from  the  bed  where  the  terrible  figure  lay. 

Dead  !  thought  I,  scarcely  venturing  to  look  upon 
the  tremendous  and  revolting  spectacle  —  dead  ! 
without  an  hour  for  repentance,  even  a  moment  for 
reflection — dead  !  without  the  rites  which  even  the 
best  should  have.  Is  there  a  hope  for  him?  The 
glaring  eyeball,  the  grinning  mouth,  the  distorted 
brow — that  unutterable  look  in  which  a  painter  would 
have  sought  to  embody  the  fixed  despair  of  the  nether- 
most hell — these  were  my  answer. 

The  poor  wife  sat  at  a  little  distance,  crying  as  if 
her  heart  would  break — the  younger  children  clustered 
round  the  bed,  looking,  with  wondering  curiosity, 
upon  the  form  of  death,  never  seen  before.  When 
the  first  tumult  of  uncontrollable  sorrow  had  passed 
away,  availing  myself  of  the  solemnity  and  impressive- 
ness  of  the  scene,  I  desired  the  heart-stricken  family 
to  accompany  me  in  prayer,  and  all  knelt  down, 
while  I  solemnly  and  fervently  repeated  some  of  those 
prayers  which  appeared  most  applicable  to  the  occa- 
sion. I  employed  myself  thus  in  a  manner,  which,  I- 
trusted,  was  not  unprofitable,  at  least  to  the  living, 
for  about  ten  minutes,  and  having  accomplished  my 
task,  I  was  the  first  to  arise.  I  looked  upon  the 
poor,  sobbing,  helpless  creatures  who  knelt  so  humbly 
around  me,  and  my  heart  bled  for  them.  With  a 
natural  transition,  I  turned  my  eyes  from  them  to  the 
bed  in  which  the  body  lay,  and,  great  God  !  what  was 
the   revulsion,   the  horror   which    I    experienced   on 


The  Drunkard's  Dream.  2 1 5 

seeing  the  corpse  -  like,  terrific  thing  seated  half 
upright  before  me  ;  the  white  cloths,  which  had  been 
wound  about  the  head,  had  now  partly  slipped  from 
their  position,  and  were  hanging  in  grotesque  festoons 
about  the  face  and  shoulders,  while  the  distorted  eyes 
leered  from  amid  them — 

"  A  sight  to  dream  of,  not  to  tell." 

I  stood  actually  riveted  to  the  spot.  The  figure 
nodded  its  head  and  lifted  its  arm,  I  thought  with  a 
menacing  gesture.  A  thousand  confused  and  horrible 
thoughts  at  once  rushed  upon  my  mind.  I  had  often 
read  that  the  body  of  a  presumptuous  sinner,  who, 
during  life,  had  been  the  willing  creature  of  every 
Satanic  impulse,  after  the  human  tenant  had  deserted 
it,  had  been  known  to  become  the  horrible  sport  of 
demoniac  possession.  I  was  roused  from  the  stupe- 
faction of  terror  in  which  I  stood,  by  the  piercing 
scream  of  the  mother,  who  now,  for  the  first  time, 
perceived  the  change  which  had  taken  place.  She 
rushed  towards  the  bed,  but,  stunned  by  the  shock  and 
overcome  by  the  conflict  of  violent  emotions,  before 
she  reached  it  she  fell  prostrate  upon  the  floor. 
I  am  perfectly  convinced  that  had  I  not  been 
startled  from  the  torpidity  of  horror  in  which  I  was 
bound,  by  some  powerful  and  arousing  stimulant,  I 
should  have  gazed  upon  this  unearthly  apparition 
until  I  had  fairly  lost  my  senses.  As  it  was,  however, 
the  spell  was  broken,  superstition  gave  way  to  reason: 
the  man   whom   all   believed  to   have  been  actually 

dead,  was  living  !     Dr.  D was  instantly  standing 

by   the  bedside,   and,   upon   examination,   he   found 


2i6  Weird  Tales. 

that  a  sudden  and  copious  flow  of  blood  had  taken 
place  from  the  wound  which  the  lancet  had  left,  and 
this,  no  doubt,  had  effected  his  sudden  and  almost 
preternatural  restoration  to  an  existence  from  which  all 
thought  he  had  been  for  ever  removed.  The  man 
was  still  speechless,  but  he  seemed  to  understand  the 
physician  when  he  forbade  his  repeating  the  painful 
and  fruitless  attempts  which  he  made  to  articulate, 
and  he  at  once  resigned  himself  quietly  into  his  hands. 

I  left  the  patient  with  leeches  upon  his  temples, 
and  bleeding  freely — apparently  with  little  of  the 
drowsiness  which  accompanies  apoplexy;  indeed,  Dr. 

D told  me  that  he  had  never  before  witnessed  a 

seizure  which  seemed  to  combine  the  symptoms  of  so 
many  kinds,  and  yet  which  belonged  to  none  of  the 
recognised  classes ;  it  certainly  was  not  apoplexy, 
catalepsy,  nor  delirium  tre7ne7is,  and  yet  it  seemed,  in 
some  degree,  to  partake  of  the  properties  of  all ; — it 
was  strange,  but  stranger  things  are  coming. 

During  two  or  three  days  Dr.   D would  not 

allow  his  patient  to  converse  in  a  manner  which  could 
excite  or  exhaust  him,  with  any  one  ;  he  suffered  him 
merely,  as  briefly  as  possible,  to  express  his  immediate 
wants,  and  it  was  not  until  the  fourth  day  after  my 
early  visit,  the  particulars  of  which  I  have  just  detailed, 
that  it  was  thought  expedient  that  I  should  see  him, 
and  then  only  because  it  appeared  that  his  extreme 
importunity  and  impatience  were  likely  to  retard  his 
recovery  more  than  the  mere  exhaustion  attendant 
upon  a  short  conversation  could  possibly  do ;  perhaps, 
too,  my  friend  entertained  some  hope  that  if  by  holy 
confession   bis   patient's   bosom   were   eased    of   the 


T]ie  DrunkanVs  JDrea?n.  217 

perilous  stuft",  which,  no  doubt,  oppressed  it,  his 
recovery  would  be  more  assured  and  rapid.  It  was, 
then,  as  I  have  said,  upon  the  fourth  day  after  my 
first  professional  call,  that  I  found  myself  once  more 
in  the  dreary  chamber  of  want  and  sickness.  The 
man  was  in  bed,  and  appeared  low  and  restless.  On 
my  entering  the  room,  he  raised  himself  in  the  bed, 
and  muttered  twice  or  thrice — "Thank  God!  thank 
God  I  "  I  signed  to  those  of  his  family  who  stood  by, 
to  leave  the  room,  and  took  a  chair  beside  the  bed. 
So  soon  as  we  were  alone,  he  said,  rather  doggedly — 
"  There's  no  use  now  in  telling  me  of  the  sinfulness  of 
bad  ways — I  know  it  all — I  know  where  they  lead 
to — I  seen  everything  about  it  with  my  own  eye- 
sight, as  plain  as  I  see  you."  He  rolled  himself  in 
the  bed,  as  if  to  hide  his  face  in  the  clothes,  and  then, 
suddenly  raising  himself,  he  exclaimed  with  startling 
vehemence — "  Look,  sir,  there  is  no  use  in  mincing 
the  matter ;  I'm  blasted  with  the  fires  of  hell  ;  I  have 
been  in  hell ;  what  do  think  of  that  ? — in  hell — I'm 
lost  for  ever — I  have  not  a  chance — I  am  damned 
already  —  damned — damned" —  The  end  of  this 
sentence  he  actually  shouted ;  his  vehemence  was 
perfectly  terrific ;  he  threw  himself  back,  and  laughed 
and  sobbed  hysterically.  I  poured  some  water  into  a 
tea-cup,  and  gave  it  to  him.  After  he  had  swallowed 
it,  I  told  him  if  he  had  anything  to  communicate, 
to  do  so  as  briefly  as  he  could,  and  in  a  manner  as 
little  agitating  to  himself  as  possible  ;  threatening 
at  the  same  time,  though  I  had  no  intention  of  doing 
so,  to  leave  him  at  once,  in  case  he  again  gave  way  to 
such  passionate  excitement.     "  It's  only  foolishness," 


2i8  Weird  Tales. 

he  continued,  "  for  me  to  try  to  thank  you  for  coming 
to  such  a  villain  as  myself  at  all ;  it's  no  use  for  me  to 
wish  good  to  you,  or  to  bless  you  ;  for  such  as  me  has 
no  blessings  to  give."  I  told  him  that  I  had  but  done 
my  duty,  and  urged  him  to  proceed  to  the  matter 
which  weighed  upon  his  mind  ;  he  then  spoke  nearly 
as  follows  : — "  I  came  in  drunk  on  Friday  night  last, 
and  got  to  my  bed  here,  I  don't  remember  how  ; 
sometime  in  the  night,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  wakened, 
and  feeling  unasy  in  myself,  I  got  up  out  of  the  bed. 
I  wanted  the  fresh  air,  but  I  would  not  make  a  noise 
to  open  the  window,  for  fear  I'd  waken  the  crathurs. 
It  was  very  dark,  and  throublesome  to  find  the  door  ; 
but  at  last  I  did  get  it,  and  I  groped  my  way  out,  and 
went  down  as  asy  as  I  could.  I  felt  quite  sober,  and 
I  counted  the  steps  one  after  another,  as  I  was  going 
down,  that  I  might  not  stumble  at  the  bottom. 
When  I  came  to  the  first  landing-place,  God  be  about 
us  always  !  the  floor  of  it  sunk  under  me,  and  I  went 
down,  down,  down,  till  the  senses  almost  left  me.  I 
do  not  know  how  long  I  was  falling,  but  it  seemed 
to  me  a  great  while.  When  I  came  rightly  to  myself 
at  last,  I  was  sitting  at  a  great  table,  near  the  top  of 
it ;  and  I  could  not  see  the  end  of  it,  if  it  had  any,  it 
was  so  far  off ;  and  there  was  men  beyond  reckoning, 
sitting  down,  all  along  by  it,  at  each  side,  as  far  as  I 
could  see  at  all.  I  did  not  know  at  first  was  it  in  the 
open  air  ;  but  there  was  a  close  smothering  feel  in  it, 
that  was  not  natural,  and  there  was  a  kind  of  light  that 
my  eyesight  never  saw  before,  red  and  unsteady,  and  I 
did  not  see  for  a  long  time  where  it  was  coming  from, 
until  I  looked  straight  up,  and  then  I  seen  that  it 


The  Drimkard's  Dream.  219 

came  from  great  balls  of  blood-coloured  fire,  that 
were  rolling  high  overhead  with  a  sort  of  rushing, 
trembling  sound,  and  I  perceived  that  they  shone  on 
the  ribs  of  a  great  roof  of  rock  that  was  arched  over- 
head instead  of  the  sky.  When  I  seen  this,  scarce 
knowing  what  I  did,  I  got  up,  and  I  said,  '  I  have  no 
right  to  be  here  ;  I  must  go  ; '  and  the  man  that  was 
sitting  at  my  left  hand  only  smiled,  and  said,  '  Sit 
down  again,  you  can  never  leave  this  place,'  and  his 
voice  was  weaker  than  any  child's  voice  I  ever  heerd, 
and  when  he  was  done  speaking  he  smiled  again. 
Then  I  spoke  out  very  loud  and  bold,  and  I  said, 
'  In  the  name  of  God,  let  me  out  of  this  bad  place.' 
And  there  was  a  great  man,  that  I  did  not  see  before, 
sitting  at  the  end  of  the  table  that  I  was  near,  and  he 
was  taller  than  twelve  men,  and  his  face  was  very 
proud  and  terrible  to  look  at,  and  he  stood  up  and 
stretched  out  his  hand  before  him  ;  and  when  he  stood 
up,  all  that  was  there,  great  and  small,  bowed  down 
with  a  sighing  sound,  and  a  dread  came  on  my  heart, 
and  he  looked  at  me,  and  I  could  not  speak.  I  felt  I 
was  his  own,  to  do  what  he  liked  with,  for  I  knew  at 
once  who  he  was,  and  he  said,  '  If  you  promise  to 
return,  you  may  depart  for  a  season  ; '  and  the  voice 
he  spoke  with  was  terrible  and  mournful,  and  the 
echoes  of  it  went  rolling  and  swelling  down  the  end- 
less cave,  and  mixing  with  the  trembling  of  the  fire 
overhead ;  so  that,  when  he  sate  down,  there  was 
a  sound  after  him,  all  through  the  place  like  the 
roaring  of  a  furnace,  and  I  said,  with  all  the  strength 
I  had,  *  I  promise  to  come  back  ;  in  God's  name  let 
me  go  ; '  and  with  that  I  lost  the  sight  and  the  hearing 


2  20  Weird  Tales, 

of  all  that  was  there,  and  when  my  senses  came  to  me 
again,  I  was  sitting  in  the  bed  with  the  blood  all  over 
me,  and  you  and  the  rest  praying  around  the  room.'' 
Here  he  paused  and  wiped  away  the  chill  drops  of 
horror  which  hung  upon  his  forehead. 

I  remained  silent  for  some  moments.  The  vision 
which  he  had  just  described  struck  my  imagination 
not  a  little,  for  this  was  long  before  Vatheck  and  the 
"  Hall  of  Eblis  "  had  delighted  the  world  ;  and  the 
description  which  he  gave  had,  as  I  received  it,  all 
the  attractions  of  novelty  beside  the  impressiveness 
which  always  belongs  to  the  narration  of  an  eye- 
7uitness,  whether  in  the  body  or  in  the  spirit,  of  the 
scenes  which  he  describes.  There  was  something, 
too,  in  the  stern  horror  with  which  the  man  related 
these  things,  and  in  the  incongruity  of  his  description, 
with  the  vulgarly  received  notions  of  the  great  place  of 
punishment,  and  of  its  presiding  spirit,  which  struck 
my  mind  with  awe,  almost  with  fear.  At  length 
he  said,  with  an  expression  of  horrible,  imploring 
earnestness,  which  I  shall  never  forget,  "  Well,  sir, 
is  there  any  hope  ;  is  there  any  chance  at  all  ?  or,  is 
my  soul  pledged  and  promised  away  for  ever  ?  is  it 
gone  out  of  my  power  ?  must  I  go  back  to  the 
place  ?  " 

In  answering  him  I  had  no  easy  task  to  perform ; 
for  however  clear  might  be  my  internal  conviction  of 
the  groundlessness  of  his  fears,  and  however  strong 
my  scepticism  respecting  the  reality  of  what  he  had 
described,  I  nevertheless  felt  that  his  impression  to 
the  contrary,  and  his  humility  and  terror  resulting 
from  it,  might  be  made  available  as  no  mean  engines 


The  Drunkard's  Dream.  2  2 1 

in  the  work  of  his  conversion  from  profligacy,  and  of 
his  restoration  to  decent  habits,  and  to  religious  feel- 
ing. I  therefore  told  him  that  he  was  to  regard  his 
dream  rather  in  the  light  of  a  warning  than  in  that  of  a 
prophecy  ;  that  our  salvation  depended  not  upon  the 
word  or  deed  of  a  moment,  but  upon  the  habits  of  a 
life  ;  that,  in  fine,  if  he  at  once  discarded  his  idle 
companions  and  evil  habits,  and  firmly  adhered  to  a 
sober,  industrious,  and  religious  course  of  life,  the 
powers  of  darkness  might  claim  his  soul  in  vain,  for 
that  there  were  higher  and  firmer  pledges  than  human 
tongue  could  utter,  which  promised  salvation  to  him 
who  should  repent  and  lead  a  new  life. 

I  left  him  much  comforted,  and  with  a  promise  to 
return  upon  the  next  day.  I  did  so,  and  found  him 
much  more  cheerful,  and  without  any  remains  of  the 
dogged  sullenness  which  I  suppose  had  arisen  from 
his  despair.  His  promises  of  amendment  were  given 
in  that  tone  of  deliberate  earnestness  which  belongs 
to  deep  and  solemn  determination  ;  and  it  was  with 
no  small  delight  that  I  observed,  after  repeated  visits, 
that  his  good  resolutions,  so  far  from  failing,  did  but 
gather  strength  by  time ;  and  when  I  saw  that  man 
shake  off  the  idle  and  debauched  companions,  whose 
society  had  for  years  formed  alike  his  amusement  and 
his  ruin,  and  revive  his  long  -  discarded  habits  of 
industry  and  sobriety,  I  said  within  myself,  there  is 
something  more  in  all  this  tiian  the  operation  of  an 
idle  dream.  One  day,  some  time  after  his  perfect 
restoration  to  health,  I  was  surprised  on  ascending 
the  stairs,  for  the  purpose  of  visiting  this  man,  to  find 
him  busily  employed  in  nailing  down  some  planks  upon 


2  22  Weird  Tales. 

the  landing-place,  through  which,  at  the  commence- 
ment of  his  mysterious  vision,  it  seemed  to  him  that 
he  had  sunk.  I  perceived  at  once  that  he  was 
strengthening  the  floor  with  a  view  to  securing  himself 
against  such  a  catastrophe,  and  could  scarcely  forbear 
a  smile  as  I  bid  "  God  bless  his  work." 

He  perceived  my  thoughts,  I  suppose,  for  he  im- 
mediately said, — 

' '  I  can  never  pass  over  that  floor  without  trembhng. 
I'd  leave  this  house  if  I  could,  but  I  can't  find  another 
lodging  in  the  town  so  cheap,  and  I'll  not  take  a 
better  till  I've  paid  off  all  my  debts,  please  God ;  but 
I  could  not  be  asy  in  my  mind  till  I  made  it  as  safe 
as  I  could.  You'll  hardly  believe  me,  your  honour, 
that  while  I'm  working,  maybe  a  mile  away,  my  heart 
is  in  a  flutter  the  whole  way  back,  with  the  bare 
thoughts  of  the  two  little  steps  I  have  to  walk  upon 
this  bit  of  a  floor..  So  it's  no  wonder,  sir,  I'd  thry  to 
make  it  sound  and  firm  with  any  idle  timber  I  have." 

I  applauded  his  resolution  to  pay  off  his  debts,  and 
the  steadiness  with  which  he  pursued  his  plans  of 
conscientious  economy,  and  passed  on. 

Many  months  elapsed,  and  still  there  appeared 
no  alteration  in  his  resolutions  of  amendment.  He 
was  a  good  workman,  and  with  his  better  habits 
he  recovered  his  former  extensive  and  profitable 
employment.  Everything  seemed  to  promise  com- 
fort and  respectability.  I  have  little  more  to  add, 
and  that  shall  be  told  quickly.  I  had  one  evening 
met  Pat  Connell,  as  he  returned  from  his  work,  and 
as  usual,  after  a  mutual,  and  on  his  side  respectful 
salutation,  I  spoke  a  few  words  of  encouragement  and 


The  Dnmkard's  Dream.  223 

approval.  I  left  him  industrious,  active,  healthy  ; 
when  next  I  saw  him,  not  three  days  after,  he  was  a 
corpse.  The  circumstances  which  marked  the  event  of 
his  death  were  somewhat  strange — I  might  say  fearful. 
The  unfortunate  man  had  accidentally  met  an  early 
friend,  just  returned,  after  a  long  absence,  and  in  a 
moment  of  excitement,  forgetting  everything  in  the 
warmth  of  his  joy,  he  yielded  to  his  urgent  invitation 
to  accompany  him  into  a  public-house,  which  lay 
close  by  the  spot  where  the  encounter  had  taken 
place.  Connell,  however,  previously  to  entering  the 
room,  had  announced  his  determination  to  take 
nothing  more  than  the  strictest  temperance  would 
warrant.  But  oh  !  who  can  describe  the  inveterate 
tenacity  with  which  a  drunkard's  habits  cling  to 
him  through  life.  He  may  repent — he  may  reform — 
he  may  look  with  actual  abhorrence  upon  his  past 
profligacy  ;  but  amid  all  this  reformation  and  com- 
punction, who  can  tell  the  moment  in  which  the  base 
and  ruinous  propensity  may  not  recur,  triumphing 
over  resolution,  remorse,  shame,  everything,  and 
prostrating  its  victim  once  more  in  all  that  is  destruc- 
tive and  revolting  in  that  fatal  vice. 

The  wretched  man  left  the  place  in  a  state  of  utter 
intoxication.  He  was  brought  home  nearly  insensible, 
and  placed  in  his  bed,  where  he  lay  in  the  deep,  calm 
lethargy  of  drunkenness.  The  younger  part  of  the 
family  retired  to  rest  much  after  their  usual  hour  ; 
but  the  poor  wife  remained  up  sitting  by  the  fire,  too 
much  grieved  and  shocked  at  the  recurrence  of  what 
she  had  so  little  expected,  to  settle  to  rest ;  fatigue, 
however,    at    length   overcame    her,   and    she    sunk 


2  24  Weird  Tales. 

gradually  into  an  uneasy  slumber.  She  could  not 
tell  how  long  she  had  remained  in  this  state,  when 
she  awakened,  and  immediately  on  opening  her  eyes, 
she  perceived  by  the  faint  red  light  of  the  smouldering 
turf  embers,  two  persons,  one  of  whom  she  recognised 
as  her  husband,  noiselessly  gliding  out  of  the  room. 

"Pat,  darling,  where  are  you  going?"  said  she. 
There  was  no  answer — the  door  closed  after  them ; 
but  in  a  moment  she  was  startled  and  terrified  by  a 
loud  and  heavy  crash,  as  if  some  ponderous  body  had 
been  hurled  down  the  stair.  Much  alarmed,  she 
started  up,  and  going  to  the  head  of  the  staircase,  she 
called  repeatedly  upon  her  husband,  but  in  vain. 
She  returned  to  the  room,  and  with  the  assistance 
of  her  daughter,  whom  I  had  occasion  to  mention 
before,  she  succeeded  in  finding  and  lighting  a  candle, 
with  which  she  hurried  again  to  the  head  of  the  stair- 
case. At  the  bottom  lay  what  seemed  to  be  a  bundle 
of  clothes,  heaped  together,  motionless,  lifeless  —  it 
was  her  husband.  In  going  down  the  stairs — for  what 
purpose  can  never  now  be  known — he  had  fallen 
helplessly  and  violently  to  the  bottom,  and  coming 
head  foremost,  the  spine  at  the  neck  had  been  dis- 
located by  the  shock,  and  instant  death  must  have 
ensued.  The  body  lay  upon  that  landing-place  to 
which  his  dream  had  referred.  It  is  scarcely  worth 
endeavouring  to  clear  up  a  single  point  in  a  narrative 
where  all  is  mystery  ;  yet  I  could  not  help  suspecting 
that  the  second  figure  which  had  been  seen  in  the 
room  by  Connell's  wife  on  the  night  of  his  death, 
might  have  been  no  other  than  his  own  shadow.  I 
suggested  this  solution  of  the  diJEficulty  ;  but  she  told 


TJic  Drunkard's  D?'eam. 


225 


me  that  the  unknown  person  had  been  considerably  in 
advance  of  the  other,  and  on  reaching  the  door,  had 
turned  back  as  if  to  communicate  something  to  his 
companion  ; — it  was  then  a  mystery.  Was  the  dream 
verified  ? — whither  had  the  disembodied  spirit  sped  ? — 
who  can  say  ?  We  know  not.  But  I  left  the  house 
of  death  that  day  in  a  state  of  horror  which  I  could 
not  describe.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  was  scarce 
awake,  I  heard  and  saw  everything  as  if  under  the 
spell  of  a  nightmare.     The  coincidence  was  terrible. 


■i'^ip- 


A  TERRIBLE   NIGHT. 

"  Tramp — tramp  on  the  oaken  floor ! 

Heard  ye  the  spectre's  hollow  tread? 
He  marches  along  the  corridor, 

And  the  wainscot  cracks  beside  thy  bed 
As  he  tracks  his  way  through  the  jarring  door. 
Which  the  wild  night-blast  has  opened." 

My  horse  had  cast  a  shoe ;  and,  stopping  about 
sunset  at  a  blacksmith's  cabin  in  one  of  the  most 
savage  passes  of  a  certain  district  in  Ireland,  which 
need  not  be  more  particularly  described,  a  smutty- 
faced,  leather-aproned  fellow  was  soon  engaged  in 
enabling  me  again  to  encounter  the  flinty  roads  of 
the  mountains,  when  the  operation  was  interrupted 
in  the  manner  here  related : — 

"Pardon  me,  sir,"  cried  a  middle-aged  traveller, 
riding  up  to  the  smithy,  and  throwing  himself  from 
his  horse  just  as  the  shaggy-headed  Vulcan,  having 
taken  the  heels  of  my  nag  in  his  lap,  was  proceeding 
to  pare  off  the  hoof  preparatory  to  fitting  the  shoe, 
which  he  had  hammered  into  shape,  and  thrown  on 
the  black  soil  beside  him.  "Pardon  me,  sir,"  re- 
peated the  stranger,  raising  his  broad-brimmed  beaver 
from  a  head  remarkable  for  what  the  phrenologist 
would  call  the  uncommon  development  of  "ideality," 
revealed  by  the  short  locks  which  parted  over  a  pair 
of  melancholy  grey  eyes,  "matters  of  moment  make 
it  important  for  me  to  be  a  dozen  miles  hence  before 


A  Terrible  Night.  227 

nightfall,  and  you  will  place  me,  sir,  under  singular 
obligations  by  allowing  this  good  fellow  to  attend  to 
my  lame  beast  instantly." 

The  confident  and  not  ungraceful  manner  in  which 
the  stranger  threw  himself  upon  my  courtesy  sufficiently 
marked  him  as  a  man  of  breeding,  and  I,  of  course, 
complied  at  once  with  his  request  by  giving  the 
necessary  order  to  the  blacksmith.  His  horse  was 
soon  put  in  travelling  trim,  and,  leaping  actively  into 
the  saddle,  he  regained  the  highway  at  a  bound  ; 
checking  his  course  then  a  moment,  he  turned  in  his 
stirrups  to  thank  me  for  the  slight  service  I  had 
rendered  him,  and,  giving  an  address  which  I  have 
now  forgotten,  he  added  that  if  ever  I  should  enter 

's  valley,  I  might  be  sure  of  a  cordial  welcome 

from  the  proprietor. 

An  hour  afterward  I  was  pursuing  the  same  road, 
and  rapidly  approaching  the  end  of  my  day's  journey. 
The  immediate  district  through  which  I  was  travelling 
could  not  be  compared  with  the  regions  on  the  eastern 
side  of  the  mountains  ;  but  the  immense  stone  barns, 
which,  though  few  and  far  between,  occasionally  met 
the  eye,  not  less  than  the  language  spoken  around 
me,  indicated  that  the  inhabitants  were  of  the  same 
origin  with  the  ignorant  but  industrious  denizens  of 
the  lower  country. 

One  of  these  stone  buildings,  an  enormous  and 
ungainly  edifice,  stood  upon  a  hill    immediately  at 

the  back  of  the  W Hotel, — a  miserable  wooden 

hovel,  where  I  expected  to  pass  the  night ;  and, 
while  descending  the  hill  in  rear  of  the  village,  I 
had  leisure  to  observe  that  it  presented  a  somewhat 


228  Weird  Tales. 

different  appearance  from  the  other  agricultural 
establishments  of  the  kind  which  I  had  met  with 
during  the  day.  The  massive  walls  were  pierced 
here  and  there  with  narr-ow  windows,  which  looked 
like  loop-holes,  and  a  clumsy  chimney  had  been  fitted 
up  by  some  unskilful  mechanic  against  one  of  the 
gables,  with  a  prodigality  of  materials  which  made  its 
jagged  top  show  like  some  old  turret  in  the  growing 
twilight.  The  history  of  this  grotesque  mansion,  as  I 
subsequently  learned  it,  was  that  of  a  hundred  others 
scattered  over  our  country,  and  known  generally  in 
the  neighbourhood  as  "O'Brien's,"  or  "Flannigan's 
Folly."  It  had  been  commenced  upon  an  ambitious 
scale  by  a  person  whose  means  were  inadequate  to  its 
completion,  and  had  been  sacrificed  at  a  public  sale 
when  half-finished,  in  order  to  liquidate  the  claims  of 
the  mechanics  employed  upon  it.  After  that  it  had 
been  used  as  a  granary  for  a  while,  and  subsequently, 
being  rudely  completed  without  any  reference  to  the 
original  plan,  it  had  been  occupied  as  a  hotel  for  a 
few  years.  The  ruinous  inn  had,  however,  for  a  long 
period  been  abandoned,  and  now  enjoyed  the  general 
reputation  in  the  neighbourhood  of  being  haunted, 
for  ghosts  and  goblins  are  always  sure  to  take  a  big 
house  off  a  landlord's  hands  when  he  can  get  no  other 
tenant. 

Throwing  myself  from  my  horse  without  further 
parley,  I  told  the  landlord  to  get  me  some  supper, 
and  we  would  talk  about  lodging  afterwards. 

It  matters  not  how  I  got  through  the  evening  until 
the  hour  of  bedtime  arrived.  I  had  soon  ascertained 
that  every  bed  in  the  hostelry  was  really  taken  up, 


A  Terrible  Night.  229 

and  that  unless  I  chose  to  share  his  straw  with  one 
of  the  waggoners,  who  are  accustomed  to  sleep  in 
their  lumbering  vehicles,  there  was  no  resource  for 
me  except  to  occupy  the  lonely  building  which  had 
first  caught  my  eye  on  entering  the  hamlet.  Upon 
inquiring  as  to  the  accommodation  it  afforded,  I 
learned  that,  though  long  deserted  by  any  permanent 
occupants,  it  was  still  occasionally,  notwithstanding 
its  evil  reputation,  resorted  to  by  the  passing  traveller, 
and  that  one  or  two  of  the  rooms  were  yet  in  good 
repair,  and  partially  furnished.  The  good  woman  of 
the  house,  however,  looked  very  portentous  when  I 
expressed  my  determination  to  take  up  my  abode  for 
the  night  in  the  haunted  ruin,  though  she  tried 
ineffectually  to  rouse  her  sleeping  husband  to  guide 
me  thither.  Mine  host  had  been  luxuriating  too 
freely  in  some  old  whisky  to  heed  the  jogging  of  his 
spouse,  and  I  was  obliged  to  act  as  my  own  gentle- 
man-usher. 

The  night  was  raw  and  gusty  as,  with  my  saddle- 
bags in  one  hand  and  a  stable-lantern  in  the  other,  I 
sallied  from  the  door  of  the  cabaret,  and  struggled  up 
the  broken  hill  in  its  rear  to  gain  my  uninviting  place 
of  rest.  A  rude  porch,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
long  unconscious  of  a  door,  admitted  me  into  the 
building  ;■  and  tracking  my  way  with  some  difficulty 
through  a  long  corridor,  of  which  the  floor  appeared 
to  have  been  ripped  open  here  and  there  in  order  to 
apply  the  boards  to  some  other  purpose,  I  came  to  a 
steep  and  narrow  staircase  without  any  bal lusters. 
Cautiously  ascending,  I  found  myself  in  a  large  hall 
which    opened   on  the  hill-side,   against   which    the 


230  Weird  Tales. 

house  was  built.  It  appeared  to  be  lighted  by  a 
couple  of  windows  only,  which  were  partially  glazed 
in  some  places,  and  closed  up  in  others  by  rough 
boards  nailed  across  in  lieu  of  shutters.  It  had 
evidently,  however,  judging  from  two  or  three 
ruinous  pieces  of  furniture,  been  inhabited.  A  heavy 
door,  whose  oaken  latch  and  hinges,  being  incapable 
of  rust,  were  still  in  good  repair,  admitted  me  into 
an  adjoining  chamber.  This  had  evidently  been  the 
dormitory  of  the  establishment,  where  the  guests, 
after  the  gregarious  and  most  disagreeable  fashion  of 
our  country,  were  wont  to  be  huddled  together  in 
one  large  room.  The  waning  moon,  whose  bright 
autumnal  crescent  was  just  beginning  to  rise  above 
the  hills,  shone  through  a  high  circular  window  full 
into  this  apartment,  and  indicated  a  comfortable- 
looking  truckle-bed  at  the  further  end  before  the 
rays  of  my  miserable  lantern  had  shot  beyond  the 
threshold. 

Upon  approaching  the  pallet  I  observed  some 
indications  of  that  end  of  the  apartment  being  still 
occasionally  occupied.  The  heavy  beams  which 
traversed  the  ceiling  appeared  to  have  been  recently 
whitewashed.  There  was  a  small  piece  of  carpet  on 
the  floor  beside  the  bed  ;  and  a  decrepit  table,  and  an 
arm-chair,  whose  burly  body  was  precariously  sup- 
ported upon  three  legs,  were  holding  an  innocent 
tite-h-tete  in  the  corner  adjacent. 

"I've  had  a  rougher  roosting-place  than  this," 
thought  I,  as  I  placed  my  lantern  upon  the  table, 
and  depositing  my  saddle-bags  beneath  it,  began  to 
prepare  myself  for  rest. 


A  Terrible  Night.  231 

My  light  having  now  burned  low,  I  was  compelled 
to  expedite  the  operation  of  undressing,  which  pre- 
vented me  from  examining  the  rest  of  the  apartment ; 
and,  indeed,  although  I  had,  when  first  welcoming 
with  some  pleasure  the  idea  of  sleeping  in  a  haunted 
house,  determined  fully  to  explore  it  for  my  own 
satisfaction  before  retiring  for  the  night,  yet  fatigue  or 
caprice  made  me  now  readily  abandon  the  intention 
just  when  my  means  for  carrying  it  into  execution 
were  being  withdrawn ;  for  the  candle  expired  while 
I  was  opening  the  door  of  the  lantern  to  throw  its 
light  more  fully  uppn  a  mass  of  drapery  which  seemed 
to  be  suspended  across  the  further  end  of  the  chamber. 
The  total  darkness  that  momentarily  ensued  blinded 
me  completely ;  but  in  the  course  of  a  few  moments 
the  shadows  became  more  distinct,  and  gradually,  by 
the  light  of  the  moon,  I  was  able  to  make  out  that 
the  object  opposite  me  was  only  a  large  old-fashioned 
bedstead  prodigally  hung  with  tattered  curtains,  I 
gave  no  further  thought  to  the  subject,  but  turning 
over,  composed  myself  to  rest. 

Sleep,  however,  whom  Shakespeare  alone  has  had 
the  sense  to  personify  as  a  woman,  was  coy  in  coming 
to  my  couch.  The  old  mansion  wheezed  and  groaned 
like  a  broken-winded  buffalo  hard  pressed  by  the 
hunter.  The  wind,  which  had  been  high,  became 
soon  more  boisterous  than  ever,  and  the  clouds 
hurried  so  rapidly  over  the  face  of  the  moon  that  her 
beams  were  as  broken  as  the  crevices  of  the  ruined 
building  through  which  they  fell.  A  sudden  gust 
would  every  now  and  then  sweep  through  the  long 
corridor  below,  and  make  the  rickety  staircase  crack 


232  Weird  Tales. 

as  if  it  yielded  to  the  feet  of  some  portly  passenger. 
x\gain  the  blast  would  die  away  in  a  sullen  moan,  as 
if  baffled  on  some  wild  night-errand ;  while  anon  it 
would  swell  in  monotonous  surges,  which  came 
booming  upon  the  ear  like  the  roar  of  a  distant 
ocean. 

I  am  not  easily  discomposed  ;  and  perhaps  none  of 
these  uncouth  sounds  would  have  given  annoyance  if 
the  clanging  of  a  window-shutter  had  not  been  added 
to  the  general  chorus,  and  effectually  kept  me  from 
sleeping.  My  nerves  were  at  last  becoming  sensibly 
affected  by  its  ceaseless  din,  and,  wishing  to  cut  short 
the  fit  of  restlessness  which  I  found  growing  upon  me, 
I  determined  to  rise,  and  descend  the  stairs,  at  the 
risk  of  my  neck,  to  try  and  secure  the  shutter  so  as  to 
put  an  end  to  the  nuisance. 

But  now,  as  I  rose  from  my  bed  for  this  purpose,  I 
found  myself  subjected  to  a  new  source  of  annoyance. 
The  mocking  wind,  which  had  appeared  to  me  more 
than  once  to  syllable  human  sounds,  came  at  length 
upon  my  ear  distinctly  charged  with  tones  which 
could  not  be  mistaken.  It  was  the  hard-suppressed 
breathing  of  a  man.  I  listened,  and  it  ceased  with  a 
slight  gasp,  like  that  of  one  labouring  under  suffoca. 
tion.  I  listened  still,  and  it  came  anew,  stronger  and 
more  fully  upon  my  ear.  It  was  like  the  thick 
suspirations  of  an  apoplectic.  Whence  it  proceeded 
I  knew  not ;  but  that  it  was  near  me  I  was  certain. 
A  suspicion  of  robbery — possibly  assassination — flashed 
upon  me  ;  but  was  instantly  discarded  as  foreign  to 
the  hospitable  character  of  the  people  among  whom 
I  was  travelling. 


A  Terrible  Nii^ht.  233 

The  moonlight  now  fell  full  upon  ihc  curtained  licil 
opposite  to  me,  and  I  saw  the  tattered  drapery  move, 
as  if  the  frame  upon  which  it  was  suspended  were 
agitated.  I  watched,  I  confess,  with  some  peculiar 
feelings  of  interest.  I  was  not  alarmed,  but  an 
unaccountable  anxiety  crept  over  me.  At  length  tlie 
curtain  parted,  and  a  naked  human  leg  was  protruded 
through  its  folds  ;  the  foot  came  with  a  numb,  dead- 
like sound  to  the  floor  ;  resting  there,  it  seemed  to 
me  at  least  half  a  minute  before  the  body  to  which  it 
belonged  was  disclosed  to  my  view. 

Slowly,  then,  a  pallid  and  unearthly-looking  figure 
emerged  from  the  couch,  and  stood  with  its  stark 
lineaments  clearly  drawn  against  the  dingy  curtain 
beside  it.  It  appeared  to  be  balancing  itself  for  a 
moment,  and  then  began  to  move  along  frcjm  the  bed. 
But  there  was  something  horribly  unnatural  in  its 
motions.  Its  feet  came  to  the  floor  with  a  dull,  heavy 
sound,  as  if  there  were  no  vitality  in  them.  Its  arms 
hung,  apparently,  paralysed  by  its  side,  and  the  only 
nerve  or  rigidity  in  its  frame  appeared  about  its  head ; 
the  hair,  which  was  thin  and  scattered,  stood  out  in 
rigid  tufts  from  its  brow,  the  eyes  were  dilated  and 
fixed  with  an  expression  of  ghastly  horror,  and  tlie 
petrified  lips  moved  not,  as  the  hideous  moaning 
which  tame  from  the  bottom  of  its  chest  escaped 
them. 

It  began  to  move  across  the  floor  in  tlic  direction 
of  my  bed,  its  knees  at  every  step  being  drawn  up 
with  a  sudden  jerk  nearly  to  its  body,  and  its  feet 
coming  to  the  ground  as  if  they  were  moved  by  some 
mechanical  impulse,  and  were  wholly  wanting  in  the 


2  34  Weird  Tales. 

elasticity  of  living  members.  It  approached  my  bed, 
and  mingled  horror  and  curiosity  kept  me  still.  It 
came  and  stood  beside  it,  and,  childlike,  I  still  clung 
to  my  couch,  moving  only  to  the  farther  side.  Slowly, 
and  with  the  same  unnatural  footfalls,  it  pursued  me 
thither,  and  again  I  changed  my  position.  It  placed 
itself  then  at  the  foot  of  my  bedstead,  and,  moved  by 
its  piteous  groans,  I  tried  to  look  calmly  at  it ; — I 
endeavoured  to  rally  my  thoughts,  to  reason  with 
myself,  and  even  to  speculate  upon  the  nature  of  the 
object  before  me.  One  idea  that  went  through  my 
brain  was  too  extravagant  not  to  remember.  I 
thought,  among  other  things,  that  the  phantom  was  a 
corpse,  animated  for  the  moment  by  some  galvanic 
process  in  order  to  terrify  me.  Then,  as  I  recollected 
that  there  was  no  one  in  the  village  to  carry  such 
a  trick  into  effect— supposing  even  the  experiment 
possible — I  rejected  the  supposition.  How,  too, 
could  those  awful  moans  be  produced  from  an  inani- 
mate being?  And  yet  it  seemed  as  if  everything 
about  it  were  dead,  except  the  mere  capability  of 
moving  its  feet,  and  uttering  those  unearthly  expres- 
sions of  suffering.  The  spectre,  however,  if  so  it 
may  be  called,  gave  me  but  little  opportunity  for 
reflection.  Its  ghastly  limbs  were  raised  anew  with 
the  same  automaton  movement ;  and,  placing  one  of 
its  feet  upon  the  bottom  of  my  bed,  while  its  glassy 
eyes  were  fixed  stedfastly  upon  me,  it  began  stalking 
towards  my  pillow. 

I  confess  that  I  was  now  in  an  agony  of  terror. 

I  leaped  from  the  couch  and  fled  the  apartment. 
The  keen-sifihtedness  of  fear  enabled  me  to  discover 


A  Terrible  Nig/if.  235 

an  open  closet  upon  the  other  side  of  the  hall. 
Springing  through  the  threshold,  I  closed  the  door 
quickly  after  me.  It  had  neither  lock  nor  bolt,  but 
the  closet  was  so  narrow,  that  by  placing  my  feet 
upon  the  opposite  wall,  I  could  brace  my  back  against 
the  door  so  as  to  hold  it  against  any  human  assailant 
who  had  only  his  arms  for  a  lever. 

The  sweat  of  mortal  fear  started  thick  upon  my 
forehead  as  I  heard  the  supernatural  tread  of  that 
strange  visitant  approaching  the  spot.  It  seemed  an 
age  before  his  measured  steps  brought  him  to  the 
door.  He  struck  ; — the  blow  was  sullen  and  hollow, 
as  if  dealt  by  the  hand  of  a  corpse — it  was  like  the 
dull  sound  of  his  own  feet  upon  the  floor.  He  struck 
the  door  again,  and  the  blow  was  more  feeble,  and 
the  sound  duller  than  before.  Surely,  I  thought,  the 
hand  of  no  living  man  could  produce  such  a  sound. 

I  know  not  whether  it  struck  again,  for  now  its 
thick  breathing  became  so  loud,  that  even  the 
moanings  which  were  mingled  with  every  suspiration 
became  inaudible.  At  last  they  subsided  entirely, 
becoming  at  first  gradually  weaker,  and  then  audible 
only  in  harsh,  sudden  sobs,  whose  duration  I  could 
not  estimate,  from  their  mingling  with  the  blast 
which  still  swept  the  hill-side. 

The  long,  long  night  had  at  last  an  end,  and  the 
cheering  sounds  of  the  awakening  farm-yard  told  me 
that  the  sun  was  up,  and  that  I  might  venture  from 
my  blind  retreat.  But  if  it  were  still  with  a  slight 
feeling  of  trepidation  that  I  opened  the  door  of  the 
closet,  what  was  my  horror  when  a  human  body  fell 
inward  upon  me,  even  as  I  unclosed  it.     The  weak- 


236  Weird  Tales. 

ness,  however,  left  me  the  moment  I  had  sprung  from 
that  hideous  embrace.  I  stood  for  an  instant  in  the 
fresh  air  and  reviving  Hght  of  the  hall,  and  then 
proceeded  to  move  the  body  to  a  place  where  I  could 
examine  its  features  more  favourably.  Great  heaven  ! 
what  was  my  horror  upon  discovering  that  they  were 
those  of  the  interesting  stranger  whom  I  had  met  on 
the  road  the  evening  before  ! 

The  rest  of  my  story  is  soon  told.  The  household 
of  the  inn  were  rapidly  collected,  and  half  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  hamlet  identified  the  body  as  that  of  a 
gentleman  well  known  in  the  country.  But  even, 
after  the  coroner's  inquest  was  summoned,  there  was 
no  light  thrown  upon  his  fate,  until  my  drunken 
landlord  was  brought  before  the  jury.  His  own 
testimony  would  have  gone  for  little ;  but  he  produced 
a  document  which  in  a  few  words  told  the  whole 
story.     It  was  a  note  left  with  him  the  evening  before 

by  Mr.  ,  to  be  handed  to  me  as  soon  as  I  should 

arrive  at  the  inn.  In  it  the  stranger  briefly  thanked 
me  for  the  slight  courtesy  rendered  him  at  the  black- 
smith's, and  mentioning  that,  notwithstanding  all 
precaution,  his  horse  had  fallen  dead  lame,  and  he 

should  be  obliged  to  pass  the  night  at  W ,  he 

would  still  further  trespass  on  my  kindness,  by 
begging  to  occupy  the  same  apartment  with  me.  It 
stated  that,  owing  to  some  organic  affection  of  his 
system,  he  had  long  been  subject  to  a  species  of 
somnambulism,  resembling  the  most  grievous  fits  of 
nightmare,  during  which,  however,  he  still  preserved 
sufficient  powers  of  volition  to  move  to  the  bed  of  his 
servant,    who,  being  used   to  his  attacks,   would  of 


A  Terrible  A'^tghf.  237 

course  take  the  necessary  moans  to  alleviate  them. 
The  note  concluded  by  saying  that  the  writer  had  less 
diffidence  in  preferring  his  request  to  be  my  room- 
mate, inasmuch  as,  owing  to  the  crowded  state  of  the 
house,  I  was  sure  of  not  having  a  chamber  to  myself 
in  any  event. 

The  reason  why  the  ill-fated  gentleman  had  been  so 
urgent  to  press  homeward  was  now  but  too  apparent ; 
and  my  indignation  at  the  drunken  innkeeper,  in 
neglecting  to  hand  me  his  note,  knew  no  bounds. 
Alas  !  in  the  years  that  have  since  gone  by,  there  has 
been  more  than  one  moment  when  the  reproaches 
which  I  then  lavished  upon  him  have  come  home  to 
myself ;  for  the  piteously  appealing  look  of  the  dying 
man  long  haunted  me,  and  I  sometimes  still  hear  his 
moan  in  the  autumnal  blast  that  wails  around  my 
casement. 


A  REALIZED  DREAM. 
By  J.  B.  O'Meara. 

Thump  !  thump  !  thump !  came  at  the  door  of  my 
bedroom.  "  What,  ho  !  not  awake  yet !  arouse 
thee,  most  somnolent  of  the  seven  sleepers  !  Get  up, 
man,  or  by  my  faith,  without  further  parley,  I  will 
crack  my  own  panel  and  thy  pate. " 

Such  was  the  salutation  which  awoke  me  one  lovely 
morning  in  September,  many  years  since,  from  a 
heavy  slumber  at  Oakville  Abbey,  the  residence  of 
my  old  schoolfellow,  Colonel  Maginnis. 

We  had  lost  sight  of  one  another,  through  the 
diversities  of  our  pursuits,  for  many  a  long  and  weary 
year  ;  and  it  was  mere  accident  that  threw  me  into  his 
company  at  Brighton  at  the  latter  end  of  the  summer, 
which  place  he  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  with  his 
wife — a  very  delightful  woman — for  his  residence  in 
Killarney,  to  which  I  received  an  invitation  for  the 
autumn  to  talk  over  old  times. 

"  Thump  !  thump  !  "  again  ;  I  rubbed  my  eyes. 

As  usual,  the  last  man  at  the  breakfast  table  at  a 
country  mansion  is  invariably  the  target  for  every 
shaft  right  and  left  ;  and  I  had  to  undergo  plenty  of 
cjuizzing  from  the  ladies,  about  my  pleasant  dreams, 
etc.  etc. 

"Well!"  said  I,  "ladies,  I  plead  guilty  to  a 
238 


A  Realized  Dream.  239 

di-eam^  a  very  odd  dream,  as  the  reason  for  iny  late 
attendance." 

"  Oh  dear  !  do  let  us  hear  it,"  chorused  the  petti- 
coats. 

On  looking  round  the  table  at  their  anxious  faces,  I 
saw  a  strange,  sudden  glance,  half- smiling,  half- 
melancholy,  rapidly  exchanged  between  the  silent 
Colonel  and  his  lady  ;  not  conscious  of  the  cause,  but 
quickly  divining  there  was  something  more  meant 
than  met  the  eye,  I  answered,  "  Oh,  the  chaotic 
nonsense  of  our  slumbering  fancies  is  not  fit  for  the 
sober  consciousness  of  the  morning.  I  feel  ashamed 
almost  to  have  mentioned  my  dream.  Who  believes 
in  dreams  now-a-days  ?  " 

An  attempt  on  the  part  of  a  Miss  Siinpeton  to 
advocate  the  importance  of  dreams  was  met  for- 
tunately by  Mrs.  Maginnis  (who  was  near  her  con- 
finement) retiring,  followed  by  the  ladies,  leaving 
Maginnis  and  me  alone ;  who  proposed  a  ride,  and 
half  an  hour  found  us  in  the  saddle. 

The  glorious  breeze  of  the  cheering  morn  freshened 
up  ourselves  and  our  good  steeds,  and  we  careered 
along  the  lovely  country,  merely  exchanging  a  few 
words  of  remark  upon  the  glorious  prospects  which 
ever  and  anon  broke  upon  us. 

Coming  to  a  hill,  which,  to  give  breath  to  our 
horses,  we  "slowly  did  surmount  on  foot,"  Colonel 
Maginnis  exclaimed,  "  Did  you  really  have  a  very 
odd  dream  last  night  ?  "  I  laughed  in  his  face,  and 
said,  "What  if  I  had?  such  things  are  not  worth 
thinking  of." 

"Humph!"    he  said,    with  a  gravity    that  called 


240  Weird  Tales. 

corresponding  seriousness  into  my  countenance  ; 
' '  perhaps  they  m-e  so7netimes  worth  thinking  of !  1 
at  least  have  good  reason  to  believe  so." 

The  exchange  of  looks  between  the  Colonel  and  his 
wife  here  flashed  upon  me,  and  I  could  not  help 
remarking,  "  Are  you  as  serious  as  you  look  upon  the 
subject  ?  " 

' '  Perfectly ;  and  if  not  impertinent,  might  I  ask 
you  what  was  the  subject  of  yours  ?  It  is  not  mere 
curiosity  that  induces  the  request,  as  I  promise  to 
convince  you." 

"  Frankly  ;  but  permit  me  first  to  inquire  the  reason 
of  your  keeping  a  green  silk  curtain  before  what 
appears  to  be  a  cabinet  picture  in  your  study,  which, 
when  you  showed  me  over  the  Abbey  on  my  arrival, 
I  could  not  help  noticing,  but  which  delicacy  of 
course  revented  me  from  then  making  an  inquiry 
about  ? " 

He  looked  at  me  very  fixedly,  and  said,  ' '  Was  that 
the  subject  of  your  dream  ?  " 

"  It  was.  The  mystery  of  concealment  of  the 
picture  somehow  or  other  stole  into  my  brain  after  I  had 
retired  to  bed,  and  a  thousand  fantastical  ideas  flitted 
across  it  ;  one,  however,  took  deeper  impression  than 
any  other,  that  it  was  the  representation  of  a  suicide^ 
and  so  awfully  depicted  that  you  did  not  deem  it  a  fit 
subject  for  your  gallery,  though  as  a  gem  of  art  you 
prized  it." 

"^  sjticide!'^  he  exclaimed,  laughing;  "no,  no, 
my  dear  fellow,  I'll  relieve  you  on  that  score — it 
depicts  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  though  odd  enough  you 
should  dream  oi  that  cabinet,  for  the  picture  it  contains 


A  Realized  Dream.  241 

formed  the  subject,  many  years  ago,  of  a  curious 
dream.  To-night  we  will  spend  a  quiet  hour  in  the 
study  after  the  ladies  have  retired,  and  then,  old 
friend,  I  will  a  strange  tale  unfold,  containing  the 
history  of  that  cabinet." 

We  had  a  glorious  gallop,  and  after  discussing  an 
excellent  dinner,  and  passing  a  delightful  evening, 
the  ladies  left  us. 

While  the  servant  was  lighting  the  lamps  in  the 
study,  I  went  to  look  out  of  the  drawing-room  bay- 
window.  On  the  lawn  I  thought  I  saw  a  human 
figure  with  something  bulky  in  the  arms,  but  which 
immediately  on  my  appearance  receded  into  the  shade 
of  the  adjacent  trees. 

"  Some  assignation,"  thought  I,  and  obeyed  the 
Colonel's  summons  to  attend  him  in  the  study. 


Colonel  Maginniss  Tale. 

"  Fourteen  years  since,  while  waiting  for  active 
service,  under  both  Mars  and  Venus,  I  was  passing  a 
week  at  Brighton,  in  a  boarding-house,  whereat  were 
domiciled  for  the  nonce  my  fair  cousin  Matilda 
Pemberton  and  her  aunt  Mrs.  Bloomington,  a 
wealthy  widow  from  whom  Tilly  had  great  expecta- 
tions. There  I  was,  watching  every  Gazette,  ordinary 
and  extraordinary,  and  every  glance  that  shot  from 
the  sparkling  eyes  of  my  fair  and  lovely  coz. 

"  One  morning,  after  leaving  the  old  lady  and  my 

coz  shopping,   I  sauntered  along  the  East  Cliff.      I 

had  scarcely  reached  half-way,  and  was  in  the  act  of 

passing  one  of  the  streets,  I  forget  the  name,  which 

i  Q 


242  Weird  Tales. 

ran  into  it,  when  to  my  horror  I  saw  an  open  phaeton 
containing  an  aged  gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  in  a 
state  of  fearful  terror,  tearing  along  at  a  tremendous 
pace  in  the  direction  of  the  cliff,  the  driver  having 
lost  all  command  over  the  horse.  My  surprise  and 
horror  were  so  sudden,  that  almost  without  thought 
I  made  a  mad  but  resolute  rush  and  dashed  at 
the  animal's  head,  and  by  the  force  of  a  sudden  and 
vigorous  check,  fortunately  brought  him  down. 

' '  The  old  gentleman,  as  you  may  imagine,  was 
profuse  in  his  gratitude :  the  young  lady,  his  daughter, 
on  being  lifted  from  the  vehicle,  through  her  paleness 
bestowed  on  me  one  blushing  glance  of  gratitude,  and 
the  public  were  by  no  means  niggard  of  their  appro- 
bation. Mr.  Molasses — that  was  his  name — and  I 
exchanged  cards,  and,  if  well  enough,  requested  my 
company  next  day  to  dinner,  as  the  commencement  of 
an  acquaintance,  he  was  pleased  to  say,  he  hoped 
might  endure  through  life.  As  I  walked  back  to  my 
domicile  to  change  my  dress,  somewhat  disarranged, 
I  was  no  small  'lion.'  The  next  morning  the  paper 
heralded  my  achievement  in  glowing  terms,  and 
every  one,  of  course,  settled  it  that  the  great  heiress 
and  only  child  of  the  wealthy  Molasses  could  not 
refuse  he7-  hand  to  the  gallant  young  officer  who  by 
the  use  of  his  own  had  saved  her  life. 

"Well !  I  dined  with  Mr.  Molasses  and  daughter, 
a  select  party,  and  wsl^  feted  like  a  prince.  Selina  was 
a  very  pretty  girl.  She  exhibited  during  the  evening 
so  many  little  graceful  and  touching  displays  of  grati- 
tude which  a  woman  can  alone  bestow,  that  I  was 
fairly  nonplussed.     That  night,  my  dear  fellow,  what 


A  Realized  Dream.  243 

with  turtle,  and  toasting,  cold  punch,  old  port,  cham- 
pagne, and  I  hardly  know  what,  I  went  to  bed 
rather  the  worse  for  my  exertions  of  every  kind, 
and  was  (like  you. to-day)  rather  late  at  the  breakfast 
parade,  and,  like  you,  my  dear  fellow,  also,  it  was 
caused  by  a  strange  but  not  so  horrible  a  dream  as 
yours." 

'*  Curious  enough,"  said  I ;  "  but,  Maginnis,  pardon 
my  interruption,  don't  you  feel  it  very  cold  ?  I  hope 
the  window  is  shut." 

"  Oh  yes  !  "  he  said  ;  "old  Johnson,  my  steward, 
would  never  have  a  window  open  if  he  could  help  it ; 
and  see  !  the  curtains  are  down — fill  another  glass." 

I  comphed,  and  he  continued  :—"  At  breakfast  I 
was  assailed  by  all  kinds  of  raillery  for  my  absence, 
and  most  unsparingly  joked  upon  the  conquest  Miss 
Molasses  had  made  of  my  heart.  I  frankly  told  them 
I  had  had  a  very  funny  dream  ;  at  hearing  which, 
of  course  omnes  demanded  I  should  out  with  it. 

"  '  Well,  I  will,  whether  you  laugh  at  it  or  not. 
A  Miss  Jones,  one  of  the  other  boarders,  left  the 
room  when  the  laughing  began,  I  suppose,  not  deem- 
ing it  at  all  delicate  for  her  to  stop  while  I  told  my 
coz  and  her  aunt  my  dream. 

"  '  I  dreamt  that  while  sitting  in  this  room,  I  re- 
ceived a  small  package,  which,  on  opening,  I  found 
to  contain  the  miniature  of  a  young  lady  of  attractive 
features,  a  "  Forget-me-not  "  ring,  and,  more  curious 
still,  the  miniature  bore  the  initials  S.  M.' 

"'Why,  the  thing  is  clear  enough,'  said  Aunt 
Bloomington.  '  S.  M.  !  the  very  initials  of  Selina 
Molasses,  I  declare  !   no  wonder  at  your  dream.' 


244  Weird  Tales. 

"  '  Upon  my  soul,'  said  I,  'I  know  that  I  shall 
hardly  be  believed,  but  I  swear — that  is,  I  mean  to 
say — I  don't  think  I  ever  dreamt  at  all  about  Selina 
Molasses  ! '  But  of  course  they  would  not  have  it,  so 
after  enduring  a  round  of  badinage  for  some  time, 
I  took  my  hat  and  wished  them  good-morning.  As  I 
strolled  along  the  Steyne,  in  rather  a  musing  mood, 
intending  to  leave  my  card  at  the  proper  hour  at  the 
Molasses',  whose  carriage  should  I  see  but  theirs 
standing  at  the  door  of  a  fashionable  portrait-painter  ! 
I,  mechanically,  as  it  were,  walked  in  that  direction, 
and  arrived  just  at  the  moment  Miss  Molasses  was 
leaving  the  house,  which  afforded  me  the  opportunity 
of  making  my  bow  and  handing  her  into  the  carriage. 

*'  At  dinner  that  evening  I  was  as  usual  pretty  well 
teased  about  my  '  sweet '  friend. 

' '  While  we  were  at  our  dessert,  the  servant  brought 
in  a  package,  and  handed  it  to  me.  *I  vow,' said 
coz  Till,  '  but  your  dream  is  out — do  open  it,  let  us 
see.'  I  did ;  and  what  was  my  astonishment  to  find, 
positively  the  realization  of  my  dream  !  There  was  a 
miniature  of  a  very  pretty  girl,  with  the  initials  S.  M., 
and  a  *  Forget-me-not '  ring." 

"Gad  !  curious  enough,"  said  I.  At  this  moment 
of  his  narrative  I  could  have  sworn  I  heard  a  faint 
cry.  "  Hark,  Maginnis  !  Stop  !  did  not  you  hear  a 
woman  cry  just  now  ?  " 

"No,"  said  he;  "nonsense,  man!  we  are  far 
removed  from  their  quarters." 

"Well,  goon." 

"To  detail  their  astonishment,  and  their  assertion 
that  it  must  be  nothincr  more  nor  less  than  a  gage 


A  Realized  Dream.  245 

it  amour  from  Miss  Molasses,  is  unnecessary  ;  but, 
though  rather  staggered,  I  admit  I  was  rather  scepti- 
cal of  the  truth ;  so  huddling  the  package  into  my 
pocket,  I  determined  to  seek  Molasses  and  get  at  the 
fact.  My  endeavour  to  leave  was  strongly  resisted  by 
my  coz,  which  only  served  to  increase  my  doubt  and 
wretchedness.  Shaking  her  off,  I  lost  no  time  in 
making  for  the  house  of  Molasses — found  he  was  at 
home,  and  sent  in  my  card.  Requesting  to  see  him 
alone,  I  introduced,  as  well  as  I  was  able  (but  very 
frankly),  the  object  of  my  visit.  I  placed  the  miniature 
and  ring  in  his  hand,  respectfully  requested  him,  as 
the  most  proper  person,  to  ascertain  from  his  daughter, 
without  reference  to  me,  whether  she  had  any  know- 
ledge of  them.  With  an  air  of  no  small  astonish- 
ment, he  thanked  me  for  my  candour,  and  with  great 
courtesy  complied,  and  returned  with  the  assurance, 
which  he  said  he  imperatively  required  to  be  made 
with  truth,  '  that  she  had  not  the  slightest  kncnvledge 
cf  eithc7-  miniature  or  ring!  and,'  added  he,  '  Selina 
has  never  deceived  me  in  her  life  ! '  I  gave  him  my 
warmest  thanks,  and  explained  to  him  the  circum- 
stances, adding,  '  I  see  now,  and  you  must,  sir,  it  is 
an  absurd  but  not  less  malicious  hoax.'  Requesting 
he  would  maintain  silence  on  the  subject,  I  hastily 
retired,  very  much  annoyed  indeed,  but  wondering 
more. 

"On  my  arrival  at  Mrs.  Smiler's,  I  determined  to 
probe  the  affair  to  the  bottom.  I  retired  to  my  room, 
declining  to  take  tea  with  the  circle.  I  found  on  my 
table  a  note  from  Matilda,  asking  '  very  humble 
pardon,  and  stating  that  it  was  an  innocent  hoax  in 


246  Weird  Tales. 

which  she  and  Mrs.  Bloomington  were  alone  con- 
cerned, and  was  caused  solely  by  my  dream.  The 
portrait,' she  said,  'was  that  of  a  younger  sister  of 
her  aunt,  long  since  dead,  a  Mrs.  Murray,  named 
Sarah — accounting  for  the  initials ;  and  that  the  ring 
was  one  of  her  aunt's  set.'  She  earnestly  implored 
forgiveness  and  forgetfulness  on  the  subject,  begged  of 
all  things  I  would  not  make  it  public  in  the  house. 
She  completely  exonerated  Miss  Jones  and  Mrs. 
Smiler,  and  most  particularly  requested  me  jwt  to  men- 
tion it  to  the  former  lady,  and  to  send  the  package  back 
immediately. 

"  I  confess  I  felt  so  much  disgusted  that  I  deter- 
mined upon  not  subjecting  myself  to  any  further 
mortification.  So  I  determined  upon  packing  off, 
and  took  my  place  in  the  early  coach  for  London 
next  morning.  Returning,  I  wrote  a  long  deprecatory 
letter  to  my  cousin,  which  I  made  up  my  mind  she 
should  receive,  together  with  the  articles,  after  I  had 
left.  The  last  thing  was  to  square  my  account  with 
Mrs.  Smiler,  who  promised  to  send  a  stamped  receipt 
in  the  morning.  All  these  matters  being  arranged,  I 
turned  in,  and  *  enjoyed  '  a  very  /^^comfortable  snooze. 

' '  Early  in  the  morning,  according  to  my  orders,  I 
was  called,  and  just  as  I  had  completed  my  toilet,  the 
servant  knocked  at  my  door,  and  presented  a  note 
from  Mrs.  Smiler,  enclosing,  as  I  supposed,  the 
receipt  for  my  account.  On  opening  it,  and  before 
I  could  stop  myself,  I  read  the  following  : — 

"'Mrs.  Smiler  presents  her  compliments  to  Miss 
Jones,  and  begs  to  say,  that  she  expects  the  board  and 
lodging  money  due  to  be  paid  without  further  delay. 


A  Realized  Dream.  247 

Mrs.  S.'s  system  is  to  have  a  weekly  settlement,  and 
as  Miss  Jones  does  not  seem  to  have  any  probability 
of  hearing  from  her  aunt  in  London,  the  sooner 
perhaps  she  takes  steps  to  arrange  with  Mrs.  Smiler, 
and  leaves  her  house  for  her  aunt's,  the  better.  The 
sum  due  is  ;^5,  los.' 

"This  was  sent  me  through  the  landlady's  mistake, 
by  inserting  the  wrong  notes  in  the  envelopes,  as  it 
was  clearly  enough  directed  to  me,  and  of  course  my 
receipt  had  been  enclosed  to  poor  Miss  Jones ;  but  I 
confess  the  perusal  of  this  unfeeling  letter  very  much 
excited  me,  particularly  when  I  brought  to  my  mind 
who  was  the  subject  of  it.  I  was  always,  my  dear 
Jack,  a  fellow  of  impulse — now,  truth  to  tell,  my  only 
feeling  for  Miss  Jones  was  unmixed  pity.  I  respected 
her  always,  her  conduct  commanded  it ;  here  I  found 
her  by  accident,  a  poor  young  creature  struggling  with 
the  world — an  unfortunate  young  lady  subject  to  the 
coarse  insult  of  an  unfeeling,  rapacious  Brighton 
lodging-house  keeper.  To  open  my  pocket-book, 
and  take  a  ten  pound  note,  the  half  of  my  cash,  and 
enclose  it  in  the  note  just  read,  was  the  work  of  a 
moment;  and,  ringing  for  the  servant,  I  asked  to 
speak  for  a  minute  with  Miss  Jones. 

"  '  The  lady  has  just  sent  the  same  message  to  you, 
sir,'  said  the  servant ;  '  she  says  there  is  some  mistake 
about  the  notes  from  my  mistress.' 

"  Taking  the  package  to  be  delivered  to  my  coz, 
and  the  letter  in  my  hand,  I  dashed  into  the  drawing- 
room  ;  and  there  sat,  pale  as  ashes,  poor  Miss  Jones. 
She  had  just  returned  from  a  very  early  walk,  and 
was  of  course  en  deshabille.     Without  waiting  for  her 


248  Weird  Tales. 

to  speak,  I  said,  '  I  believe  our  kind  friend,  Mrs. 
Smiler,  has  made  a  mistake — now  don't  speak — 
thank  God  she^has;^  and  I  took  her  hand,  and 
pressing  her  epistle  with  its  enclosure  into  it,  shook 
it  warmly.  She  became  violently  agitated.  '  Allow 
me,  Miss  Jones,'  said  I,  '  to  request  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  give  this  package  and  letter  to  my  cousin 
Matilda.'  She  faltered  out  a  'most  happy,'  but 
looked  somehow  or  other,  Jack,  most  unhappy.  I 
don't  know  how  it  is  zoiih  you,  but  I  suppose  we  have 
much  the  same  temperament  ;  but  I  never  see  a 
woman  agitated  but  I  feel  a  desperate  anxiety  to 
alleviate  her  miseries  by  a  kiss.  This  I  did  to  Miss 
Jones,  and  hastily  left  the  room,  bidding  her  '  good- 
bye,' to  which  she  feebly  replied. 

"  I  went  to  the  coach-office,  and  while  they  were 
horsing  and  loading,  penned  the  following  note  : — 

"  '  Pardon  me  for  what  I  have  done — never  think 
of  repayment  until  we  meet  again  ;  should  such  an 
occurrence  never  happen,  I  most  heartily  wish  you 
every  happiness,  and  that  your  virtues  and  accom- 
plishments may  meet  with  their  deserved  reward.' 

"To  this  I  put  no  name,  and  giving  a  porter  six- 
pence to  take  it,  jumped  on  the  coach. 

' ' '  Well ! '  quoth  I  to  myself,  as  we  rattled  along, 
the  morning  breeze  invigorating  my  cheek,  as  the  last 
event  had  my  heart,  *  old  fellow  !  if  you  have  missed 
your  chance  of  a  rich  lady,  you  have  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  serving  a  poor  one. ' 

' '  I  found,  upon  my  arrival  in  town,  that  I  was 
appointed  to  the  — th,  under  immediate  orders 
(pleasant,    eh?)   to    replace    the   — th,    at    Jamaica. 


A  Realized  Dream.  249 

who,  having  adopted  the  tea  and  coffee  slip-slop 
system,  instead  of  port  and  bottled  porter,  had  died 
off  like  rotten  sheep.  What  with  writing  letters, 
making  the  thousand  and  one  arrangements  in  outfit- 
ting, and  all  the  etceteras,  ten  days  found  me  at  tlie 
depdt  at  Cork. 

"  What  happened  in  the  wearisome  twelve  years 
I  passed  under  a  tropical  sun  is  immaterial  now." 

"D — n  me!  Maginnis,"  said  I,  starting  up,  "but 
I'll  swear  I  heard  a  groans 

"  Pooh  !  nonsense,  man  !  You  are  full  of  your 
whimsies  and  fancies  ;  you  can't  get  that  dream  out  of 
your  head.  Fill  your  glass — that's  right. — Suffice  it 
to  say,  that  I  went  out  an  ensign,  and  returned  senior 
major  ;  you  know  my  rank  now.  I  had  two  attacks 
of  the  yellow  fever,  but  it  fortunately  failed  to  floor 
me ;  and  I  had  a  nurse  too  —  poor  affectionate 
creature  ! " 

Here  the  Colonel  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  and  was  for 
some  moments  silent.  During  this  silence,  methought, 
while  I  puffed  my  cigar,  I  heard  his  sig/i  most  dis- 
tinctly responded  to ;  but  not  wishing  to  disturb  his 
reverie,  and  really  thinking  it  must  be  mere  fancy,  I 
made  no  remark. 

"  I  came  home  with  a  shattered  constitution;  but 
my  native  air  did  wonders,  and  Cheltenham  the  rest. 

"  I  had  hardly  been  a  fortnight  at  that  gay  resort, 
when  one  morning,  taking  *  my  constitutional,'  as  it 
is  termed,  after  leaving  the  Spa,  I  met  in  the  pro- 
menade a  lady,  whose  earnest  gaze  attracted  me  :  our 
eyes  met,  and  the  mutual  glance  could  not  be  mis- 
taken.    I  knew  the  face,  but — where  was  it  ?     She 


250  Weird  Tales. 

rapidly  moved  on  to  a  small  but  elegant  phaeton, 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  exquisitely  handsome  ponies, 
and  drove  quickly  off.  I  strained  my  gaze  after  the 
vehicle ;  but  even  the  livery  was  unknown,  as  was 
the  lady's  name,  though  I  felt  assured  that  I  had 
seen  her  before  ;  but,  alas  !  twelve  years'  absence, 
Jack,  makes  a  woful  inroad  upon  one's  memory. 

"  '  Pray,  sir,'  said  I,  addressing  one  of  those  gentle- 
men who  know  (or  profess  to  know)  everybody  at 
every  fashionable  watering-place,  '  who  is  that  lady  ? ' 

"  '  Bless  my  soul !  Major,  not  to  know  her,  does, 
as  the  poet  says,  argue  yourself  unknown  ;  that  is 
Miss  Mol — Mor — bless  my  soul !  how  stupid  of  me  ! — 
I  really  quite  forget  the  name  just  now — but  she's  the 
great  heiress,  and  one  of  the  most  estimable  of  ladies.' 

"  •'  Mol — Mor,'  thought  I ;  '  great  heiress  ?  who  the 
devil  can  she  be  ?  a  Miss,  too  ! '  Well,  I  bothered 
myself  with  thinking,  until  I  gave  it  up.  I  went 
home  after  half  an  hour's  ramble,  and,  to  my  surprise, 
who  should  I  find  in  the  hall,  waiting  my  arrival,  but 
a  servant  dressed  in  the  very  livery  of  the  lady  of  the 
phaeton  ! 

"  '  Major  Maginnis,  I  presume,  sir,'  said  he. — I 
bowed,  and  he  respectfully  handed  me  a  petit  billet,  in 
which  the  following  was  written  in  a  very  tremulous 
hand  : — 

"  '  If  Major  Maginnis  will  condescend  to  honour 
one  he  knew,  and  served,  and  saved  at  Brighton, 
previous  to  his  departure  for  the  West  Indies  twelve 
years  since,  with  the  pleasure  of  an  interview,  the 
bearer  has  instructions  to  await  his  convenience  to 
convey  him  to  her  house.' 


A  Realized  Dream.  2  5 1 

"  *  Oh  !  ho!'  said  I,  'the  murder's  out.  Miss 
Molasses,  by  Jove  !  the  rich  heiress  !  Selina  Molasses 
still  a  Miss,  too  ! '  So  I  sent  word  down  to  the 
servant  to  wait,  and  I  dressed  myself  to  look  as  well 
as  a  yellow- visaged,  tropic-tanned  fellow  not  turned 
forty,  might.  In  a  few  minutes,  I  was  whirled  along 
in  an  elegant  chariot  (not  the  phaeton)  to  a  very 
pretty  villa  outside  the  town,  and  in  less  than  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  found  myself  admiring  the  elegant  ar- 
rangements of  one  of  the  most  tasteful  and  recherche 
drawing-rooms  eye  ever  beheld. 

"At  length  a  gentle  hand  opened  the  door;  and 
now  for  the  encounter  full  of  smiles  !  I  bowed  so 
profoundly,  that  when  I  raised  my  eyes  towards  the 
lady,  my  sudden  start  must  have  looked  quite  stage- 
fied.  Good  heavens  !  who  did  I  behold  on  the  sofa, 
dissolved  in  tears  ?  " 

"  Miss  Molasses,"  said  I,  "of  course  !  " 

"  No,  Jack  !  Miss  Jones  !— there  she  sat,  dressed 
in  the  very  same  hiunble  morning  costume  she  had  on 
when  1  last  beheld  her  at  Brighton  !  Every  recollec- 
tion rushed  upon  me  with  the  vividness  of  lightning." 

"  Do  you  keep  a  dog  in  the  room  ?  "  said  I,  fidget- 
ing ;  "  for,  upon  my  soul,  there  is  some  one  here,  I'll 
swear." 

"Nonsense!"  said  Maginnis ;  "don't  interrupt 
me.  Well,  well,  you  seem  fidgety,  so  I'll  be  brief. — 
There  is  no  necessity  to  recount  to  you  the  hours  of 
rapture  that  we  passed  ;  it  is  sufficient  to  say,  that 
quick  as  time  and  fleet  horses  would  allow,  the  rich 
heiress,  Miss  Morgan  " — 

"  Miss  who?   I  thought  you  %'x\'\Joncs  f' 


252  Weird  Tales. 

"  So  she  once  was  ;  but  'twas  changed  to  Morgan^ 
for  reasons  presently, — was  the  bride  of  your  humble 
servant." 

"  Humph  !"  I  replied,  "you've  been  a  very  lucky 
fellow,  Maginnis.  So  Miss  Jones,  while  you  had  the 
yelloxu  fever  abroad,  was  nursing  for  iivelve  long  years 
the  scarlet  one  for  you  at  home,  eh  ?  But  what  about 
the  cabinet  ?  " 

"  Spare  me  a  little  longer. — After  we  had  solem- 
nized our  nuptials  at  Gretna,  previous  to  our  more 
formal  union  in  England,  and  were  spending  the 
honeymoon,  our  conversation  often  recurred  to  our 
Brighton  days,  and  the  following  is  a  brief  abstract 
of  the  events. 

"The  morning  we  parted  she  was  most  wretched, 
for  it  appears,  although  I  was  quite  unconscious  of  it, 
she  deeply  loved  me,  but  never  told  her  love.  Her 
expectations  rested  upon  a  rich  aunt,  an  old  maid, 
who  treated  her  very  cruelly.  She  had  not  a  penny 
to  satisfy  the  demands  of  Mrs.  Smiler  on  that  morn- 
ing ;  and,  what  was  worse,  on  seeking  for  some  loved 
token-trinkets,  to  endeavour  to  raise  some  money 
temporarily,  she  found  her  desk  had  been  opened, 
and  the  articles  abstracted  ! 

"  'Gracious  Heaven!  '  said  I,  'can  it  be  possible? 
What  infamy  !  The  miniature  and  the  ring  yours, 
and  taken  to  delude  vie  by  my  cousin  Matilda ! — 
infamous  !  infamous  ! ' 

"'It  is  all — all  passed,  and  long  ago  forgiven,' 
said  the  angel. 

"  '  Did  yon  deliver  the  package  that  contained 
them?'  said  I. 


A  Realized  Dream.  253 

**  'Yes  !  and,  covered  with  the  deepest  confusion, 
she  handed  me  your  letter,  and  implored  my  forgive- 
ness. The  miniature  was  the  picture  of  my  married 
sister,  who  died  in  giving  birth  to  her  only  son ;  she 
was  like  me,  but  much  lovelier.  The  ring  w^as  her 
dying  gift — her  name  was  Sophia  Masters ;  and  I 
believe  that  Mrs.  Smiler,  the  landlady,  having  seen 
them  in  my  possession,  suggested  the  plan  to  obtain 
them,  the  initials  so  curiously  being  the  same,  S.  M., 
to  practise  the  fraud  upon  you.' 

"'There  is  no  fraud  now,  at  least,'  said  I;  'my 
dream  has  come  true ;  I  have  married  the  owner  of 
the  viiniatia-e  and  the  ring,  and  who  was  and  is 
S.  M.' 

"  '  'Tis  curious,  indeed,'  said  my  dear  Susan ;  'but 
let  me  go  on.  The  very  morning  when  you  left,  I 
determined  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  post  for  the 
expected  succour  from  my  aunt,  so  long  and  so 
unaccountably  delayed,  with  the  firm  intention  of 
returning  your  kind  gift  through  your  cousin  ;  but 
your  note  from  the  coach-office  changed  my  mind. 
That  post  brought  me  a  communication  from  my 
aunt's  solicitor,  stating  that  she  had  suddenly  died, 
and  that  about  an  hour  before  she  died  she  sent 
for  her  lawyer  and,  by  a  codicil,  revoked  her  will, 
leaving  me  her  sole  legatee  and  heiress  to  fifty 
thousand  pounds.  What  with  the  revulsion  of  fortune, 
the  loss  0/ you,  and  a  thousand  conflicting  sensations, 
I  became  seriously  ill ;  but  under  the  kind  care  and 

attention  of  Dr.  T ,  in  about  a  week  I  was  enabled 

to  return  to  town  to  attend  the  obsequies  of  my 
deceased  aunt,   and  take  possession  of  my  fortune, 


2  54  Weird  Tales. 

and,  according  to  the  will,  the  name  of  ".Morgan," 
which  was  that  of  my  aunt.  I  did  so,  determined, 
never  to  surrender  it  but  to  one — my  loved — my  long- 
loved  Maginnis.  Heaven  has  vouchsafed  to  hear  my 
prayer,  and  to  consummate  my  happiness  ! ' 

"  You  recollect  I  enclosed  her  a  bank  note  for  ten 
pounds  ; — it  may  be  whim  or  what  yoii  please  to  call 
it,  htit  she  never  parted  with  that  note,  strictly  inter- 
preting my  letter  'never  to  repay  IT  but  when  we 
met ; '  so  she  had  it  framed  and  placed  in  a  cabinet 
made  for  the  purpose — the  one  you  see  before  you. 
One  day  at  an  exhibition  she  saw  a  portrait  strongly 
resembling  me,  and  had  one  copied  which  even  bore 
a  still  stronger  resemblance,  and  with  her  own  hand 
placed  them  in  the  same  cabmet — here  they  are." 

We  looked,  and  there  certainly  was  the  bank  note, 
as  described.  There,  too,  underneath,  was  Magin- 
nis's  portrait ;  but  in  place  of  that  of  his  lady  was 
the  portrait  of  a  very  beautiful  Spanish  girl,  with  an 
infant  boy  in  her  arms,  the  very  image  of  the  Colonel. 
Underneath  were  the  words  in  gold,  ''^  Maraqiutay 

"Mysterious  Powers!"  cried  Maginnis,  his  whole 
frame  convulsed  \vith  agitation,  and  his  visage  turning 
ghastly  pale;  "by  what  agency  came  this  change? 
can  it  be  true  ?  "  and  he  snatched  it  from  the  cabinet, 
and  gazed  upon  it  with  quivering  eye  and  trembling 
hand.  "'Tis  Maraquita !  and  my  little  Carlos;  but 
how  came  it  here  ?  Can  it  be  possible  ? — yes  !  yes  ! 
it  must  have  been  her  act.  You  say,  my  friend,  you 
heard  noises  during  the  evening  ;  let  us  search." 

I  rushed  on  the  lawn,  but  saw  no  one,  as  the  moon 
shed  her  beams  on  the  sward.      Returning,  I  care- 


A  Realized  Dream.  255 

fully  bolted  the  door  and  placed  the  shutters  fast, 
and  searched  the  room,  without  effect.  Rousing 
Maginnis,  who  seemed  sunk  in  thought,  I  stated  the 
fruitlessness  of  further  search  at  so  late  an  hour,  and 
ventured  on  an  inquiiy  as  to  the  mysterious  ' '  Mara- 
quita."  Looking  at  me  steadfastly,  he  said,  "Of 
Maraquita,  my  friend,  we  will  speak  anon.  She  lived 
with  me  in  Jamaica,  and  bore  me  that  child,"  pointing 
to  the  portrait.  "  A  mysterious  communication  I 
received  some  few  days  since,  stating  she  was  in  Eng- 
land, and  in  this  neighbourhood,  is  now  accounted  for. 
It  is  evident  she  is,  and  has  gained,  by  some  means  or 
another,  entrance,  not  only  to  this  house,  but  to  this 
room,  and  to  the  secret  cabinet.  Ha  !  "  said  he  ; 
"  by  heavens,  it  rushes  on  me  ! — last  night  /  thought, 
while  silting  here  and  gazing,  as  is  my  wont  some- 
times, on  the  token  of  earlier  days,  ere  I  seek  my  bed, 
/  thought  I  heard  sounds  similar  to  those  you  fancied. 
She  must  have  been  here  atid  exchajtged  the  por- 
traits^ and  obtained  entrance  by  the  door.  A  lady 
in  black,  too,  was,  I  heard,  inquiring  for  me  at  the 
lodge  to-day,  and  obtained  permission  to  walk  in  the 
grounds.     We  will  search  instantly." 

"  Not  so,  my  friend  !  not  so  !  It  would  be  useless; 
consider  Mrs.  Maginnis's  condition — your  absence, 
and  agitated  appearance,  if  you  deny  yourself  your 
night's  repose,  will  seriously  alarm  her — to-morrow  at 
morn  I  will  accompany  you."  After  some  time  he 
assented,  and  after  locking  the  portrait  in  his  private 
desk,  we  parted. 

I  tried  to  sleep,  but  could  not,  and  after  enduring 
two  hours  or  so,  in  attempted  slumber,  and  urged  by 


256  Weird  Tales. 

an  intense  curiosity,  at  the  grey  dawn  I  walked  in  the 
grounds.  I  had  been  out,  I  suppose,  about  half  an 
hour,  when  I  took  the  direction  of  an  avenue  which 
led  to  the  banks  of  the  river.  I  could  hardly  account 
for  it,  but  a  fearful  apprehension  seemed  to  cover  my 
mind,  which  was  engrossed  with  the  mysterious 
Spanish  girl,  when  I  gazed  on  the  dark  stream,  as 
yet  unsparkling  in  the  sunbeam,  stealing  mournfully, 
and  silently,  and  swiftly  along  its  romantic  and 
thickly-wooded  banks.  On  a  sudden,  the  sound  of 
voices  on  the  water  struck  upon  my  ear,  and  imme- 
diately after,  a  boat,  containing  two  fishermen, 
appeared,  who  were  rowing  hard  against  a  strong 
current,  that  set  round  a  winding  in  the  river.  In  a 
short  time,  they  saw  me  on  the  bank,  and  crossed  the 
stream,  making  signs  ;  it  was  evident  they  wished  me 
to  await  their  arrival.  They  soon  made  the  shore, 
and  pointing  in  the  direction  of  a  little  village  on  the 
opposite  bank,  made  me  understand  they  wished  me  to 
go  with  them.  A  mysterious  impulse  led  me  to  imme- 
diately assent,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  swift  and 
favouring  current  brought  us  to  the  landing-place  of  the 

village  of  C .     A  crowd  had  collected  around  the 

door  of  the  small  inn  with  awe-struck  visages.  On 
entering  to  ascertain  the  cause,  what  was  my  horror  at 
perceiving  the  lifeless  form  of  a  young  female,  found 
floating  in  the  river.  One  look  at  the  face — the  glance 
was  enough — the  features,  though  newly  known,  now 
indelibly  impressed  ! — 'twas  hers  of  the  CABINET 
PICTURE,  Maraquita  !     It  shot  through  my  brain  ! 

My  dream  of  the  s.UICIDE  was  realized. 


B    000  003  108    8 


